Skip to main content

Full text of "Reliques of ancient English poetry, consisting of old heroic ballads, songs, and other pieces of our earlier poets, together with some few of later date"

See other formats 


Google 



This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project 

to make the world's books discoverable online. 

It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject 

to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books 

are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover. 

Marks, notations and other maiginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the 

publisher to a library and finally to you. 

Usage guidelines 

Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the 
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing tliis resource, we liave taken steps to 
prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying. 
We also ask that you: 

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for 
personal, non-commercial purposes. 

+ Refrain fivm automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine 
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the 
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help. 

+ Maintain attributionTht GoogXt "watermark" you see on each file is essential for in forming people about this project and helping them find 
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it. 

+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just 
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other 
countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of 
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner 
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liabili^ can be quite severe. 

About Google Book Search 

Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers 
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web 

at |http: //books .google .com/I 



3 ab 



5 1b7 




■1i 



^'"'"^m 






'''^''^^'^ffC;^: 



RELIQUES 



OP 



ANCIENT ENGUSH POETRY. 



VOL. II. 



LONDON : 
GILBERT AND BIT1NGT0N, PRINTBBS, 

ST. John's square. 



RELIQUES 



OF 



ANCIENT ENGLISH POETRY: 



CONSISTING OF 



®Rr ^txm ^BlldCb^f Songjet, 



AND OTHER PIECES OF OUR EARLIER POETS; 



TOGXTHEB. 



WITH SOME FEW OP LATER DATE. 



BY 



THOMAS PERCY, 



LORD BISHOP OP DRCVORE, 

I 



^eto ®trftCon. 

IN THREE VOLUMES. 
VOL. IT. 



LONDON: 
PRINTED FOR HENRY W ASHBOURNE AND CO. 

IVT LANE, PATERNOSTER ROW. 



MDCCCLYII. 



PR//?/' 




CONTENTS OF VOLUME THE SECOND. 



BOOK THE FIRST. 

Pi.OB 

1. Richard of Almaigne 1 

2. On the Death of K. Edward L 6 

3. An original Ballad by Chaucer 11 

4. The Tumament of Tottenham 13 

5. For the Victory at Agincourt 27 

6. The Not-browne Mayd 28 

7. A Balet by the Earl Riven 46 

a Gupid'B Aaeanlt By Lord Yauz 48 

9. Sir Aldingar 63 

10. The Gaberlunzie Man, Scottish. By K. James V. ... 68 

11. On Thomas Lord Cromwell 67 

12. Harpalus. An ancient English Pastoral 71 

13. Robin and Makyne. An ancient Scottish Pastoral ... 76 

14. Gentle Herdsman, tell to me 82 

15. K. Edward IV. and the Tanner of Tamworth 87 

16. As ye came from the Holy Land ......... 97 

17. Hardyknute. A Scottish Fragment. By Sir J. Bruce . 101 

BOOK THE SECOND. 

1. A Ballad of Luther, the Pope, a Cardinal, and a Husband- 

man 119 

2. John Anderson my Jo. A Scottish Song 127 

a Little John Nobody 129 

4. Q. Elizabeths Verses, while Prisoner at Woodstock . . 134 

5. TheHeirofLinne 185 



Vl C0KTENT8. 

PA6K 

6. Oascoigne^B Praise of the Fair Bridget, afterwards Lady 

Sandes 145 

7. Fair Rosamond. By Thomas Delone 151 

8. Qaeen Eleanor*8 Confession ' 164 

9. The Sturdy Bock 169 

10. The Beggar's Daughter of Bednall-Green 171 

An Essay on the word Fit, and the ancient Ballad-singing 184 

11. Fancy and Desire. By the Earl of Oxford 188 

12. Sir Andrew Barton 190 

13. Lady Anne Bothwell's Lament A Scottish Song . . . 207 

14. The Murder of the King of Scots 210 

15. A Sonnet hy Q. Elizaheth 214 

16. The K. of Scots and Andrew Browne. By W. Elderton . 217 

17. The Bonny Earl of Murray. A Scottish Song .... 223 

18. Young Waters. A Scottish Ballad 226 

19. Haiy Amhree 230 

20. Brave Lord Willoughhy 235 

21. Victorious Men of Earth. By James Shirley .... 240 

22. The Winning of Gales 241 

23. The Spanish Lady's Love 245 

24. Argentile and Guran. By W. Warner 250 

25. Coiin*s Fate 266 

26. Jaijp Shore 268 

27. Gorydon's doleful Knell 281 

BOOK THE THIRD. 

Essay on the Metre of Pierce Plowman's Visions .... 285 

1. The Gomplaint of Gonscience 285.302 

2. Pkin Truth and Blind Ignorance 308 

8. The Wandering Jew 315 

4. The Lye. By Sir Walter Raleigh 322 

5. Verses (yiz. two Sonnets) hy K. James 1 326 

6. K. John and the Abbot of Ganterbury 328 

7. You meaner Beauties. By Sir H. Wotton 384 



CONTENTS. VU 

PAOK 

8. The Old and Young Courtier 335 

9. Sir John Suckling's Gampaigne 340 

10. To Althea from Prison. By Col. LoYolace 343 

11. TheDownfidlof Charing-Cross 345 

12. Loyalty Confined. By Sir Roger UEstrange 348 

13w Yersea by King Charles 1 352 

14. The Sale of Rebellious Houshold-stuff 356 

15. The Baffled Knight, or Lad/s Policy 361 

16. Why 80 pale? By Sir John Suckling 369 

17. Old Tom of Bedlam. Mad Song the first 370 

18. The Distracted Puritan. Mad Song the second .... 374 

19. The Lunatic Loyer. Mad Song the third ...... 378 

20. The Lady Distracted with Love. Mad Song the fourth . 381 

21. The Distracted Lover. Mad Song the fifth * 383 

22. The Frantic Lady. Mad Song the sixth 385 

23. Lilli Burlero. By Lord Wharton 387 

24. The Braes of Yarrow. In imitation of the ancient Scots 

manner. By W. Hamilton 391 

25. Admiral Honor's Ghost. By Mr. Glover 397 

26. Jemmy Dawson. By Mr. Shenstone 402 

The Glossary 407 



1 >• 



Though Bome make slight of Libbls, jret jrou may see by them how 
the wind sits : as, take a straw and throw it up into the air, you 
may see by that which way the wind is, which you shall not do by 
casting up a stone. More solid things do not show the complec- 
tion of the times so well as Ballads and Libels. 

Sbldbn*s Tablb-talk. 



RELIQUES 



OF 



ANCIENT POETRY, 



SERIES THE SECOND. 
BOOK I. 



I. 

** A BALLAD made by one of the adherents to Simon de 
Montfort, Earl of Leicester, soon after the battle of 
Lewes, which was fought May 14, 1264,**— >affords a 
carious specimen of aticient satire, and shows that the 
liberty assumed by the good people of this realm, of 
abusing their kings and princes at pleasure, is a privilege 
of yery long standing. 

To render this antique libel intelligible, the reader is 
to understand that just before the battle of Lewes, which 
proved so fatal to the interests of Henry IIL, the barons 
had offered his brother Richard, king of the Romans, 
90,000/. to procure a peace upon such terms as would have 
divested Henry of all his regal power, and therefore the 
treaty proved abortive. The consequences of that battle 
are well known : the king, prince Edward his son, his 
brother Richard, and many of his friends, fell into the 

VOL. II. B 



2 RICHARD OF ALMAIONE. 

hands of their enemies ; while two great barons of the 
king's party, John, Earl of Warren, and Hugh Bigot, the 
king's Jasticiary, had been glad to escape into France. 

In the 1st stanza, the aforesaid sam of 30,000/. is alluded 
to ; but, with the usual misrepresentation of party male- 
volence, is asserted to have been the exorbitant demand 
of the king's brother. 

With regard to the 2nd stanza, the reader is to note 
that Richard, along with the earldom of Cornwall, had the 
honours of Wallingford and Eyre confirmed to him on his 
marriage with Sanchia, daughter of the Count of Pro- 
vence, in 1243. Windsor Castle was the chief fortress 
belonging to the king, and had been garrisoned by 
foreigners ; a circumstance which furnishes out the bur- 
then of each stanza. 

The 3rd stanza alludes to a remarkable circumstance 
which happened on the day of the battle of Lewes. After 
the battle was lost, Richard, king of the Romans, took 
refuge in a windmill, which he barricadoed, and maintiuned 
for some time against the barons, but in the evening was 
obliged to surrender. See a very full account of thb in 
the Chronicle of Mailros, Ozon. 1684. p. 229. 

The 4th stanza is of obvious interpretation : Richard, 
who had been elected king of the Romans in 1256, and 
had afterwards gone over to take possession of his dignity, 
wasin the year 1259 about to return into England, when 
the barons raised a popular clamour, that he was bringing 
with him foreigners to overrun the kingdom : upon which 
he was forced to dismiss almost all his followers, otherwise 
the barons would have opposed his landing. 

In the 5th stanza, the writer regrets the escape of the 
Earl of Warren ; and in the 6th and 7th stanzas, insinuates 
that, if he and Sir Hugh Bigot once fell into the hands of 
their adversaries, they should never more return home ; a 
circumstance which fixes the date of this ballad; for, in 
the year 1265, both these noblemen landed in South Wales^ 



RICHARD OF ALMAIONE. 3 

and the royal party soon after gained the ascendant. See 
Holinshed, Rapin, &c. 

The following is copied from a very ancient MS. in the 
Britbh Museum. [Harl. MSS. 2253. s. 23.] This MS. is 
judged, from the peculiarities of the writing, to be not 
later than the time of Richard II.; ik being every where 
expressed by the character p ; the 9 is pointed, after the 
Saxon manner, and the i hath an oblique stroke over it. 

Prefixed to this ancient libel on government was a small 
design, which the engraver intended should correspond 
with the subject. On the one side a Satyr, (emblem of 
Petulance and Ridicule,) is trampling on the ensigns of 
Royalty; on the other. Faction, under the mask of 
Liberty, is exciting Ignorance and Popular Rage to de- 
&ce the royal image, which stands on a pedestal inscribed 
MAGNA CHART A, to deuoto that the rights of the king, as 
well as those of the people, are founded on the laws ; and 
that to attack one, is in effect to demolish both. 



SiTTETH alle stille, ant herkneth to me ; 
The kyng of Aleroaigne, bi mi leaute, 
Thritti thousent pound askede he 
For te make the pees in the countre, 

Ant so he dude more. t 

Richard, thah thou be ever trichard, 

Tricthen shalt thou never more. 

Richard of Alemaigne, whil that he wes kying, 
He spende al is tresour opon swyvyng, 

Yer. 2, kyn. MS. 
B 2 



RICHARD OF ALMAIGK£. 

Haveth he nout of Walingford oferlyng, 10 

Let him habbe, ase he brew, bale to dryng, 

Maugre Wyndesore, 
Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. . 

The kyng of Alemaigne wende do ful wel, 
He saisede the mulne for a castel, 15 

With hare sharpe swerdes he grounde the stel, 
He wende that the sayles were mangonel 

To helpe Wyndesore. 
Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. 

The kyng of Alemaigne gederede ys host, 20 

Makede him a castel of a mulne post, 
Wende with is prude, ant is muchele host, 
Brohte from Alemayne mony sori gost 

To store Wyndesore. 
Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. 25 

By God, that is aboven ous, he dude muche synne. 
That lette passen over see the erl of Warynne : 
He hath robbed Engelond, the mores, ant th fenne. 
The gold, ant the selver, and y-boren henne. 

For love of Wyndesore. 30 

Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. 

Sire Simond de Mountfort hath suore bi ys chyn, 
Hevede he nou here the erl of Waryn, 



RICHARD OF ALMAIGNE. 5 

Shuld he never more come to is yn, 34 

Ne with sheld, ne with spere, ne with other gyn, 

To help of Wyndesore. 
Richard, thah thou be ever^ &c. 

Sire Simond de Montfort hath suore bi ys cop, 
Hevede he nou here Sire Hue de Bigot : 
Al he shulde grante here twelfmoneth scot 40 
Shulde he never more with his sot pot 

To helpe Wyndesore, 
Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. 

Be the luef, be the loht, sire Edward, 
Thou shalt ride sporeles o thy lyard 45 

Al the ryhte way to Dovere-ward, 
Shalt thou never more breke foreward ; 

Ant that reweth sore 
Edward, thou dudest as a shreward, 

Forsoke thyn emes lore. 50 

Richard, &c. 



*«* This ballad will rise in its importance with the 
reader, when he finds that it is even believed to have oc- 
casioned a law in our Statute- Book, viz. '* Against slan- 
derous reports or tales, to cause discord betwixt king and 
people." (Weitm^ Primer, c, zzxiv. anno 3 Edw. I.) That 
•it had this effect, is the opinion of an eminent writer. 

y. 40, g*te here. MS. t. e. gnat their. Tide GIob. 
y. 44, thit stanza waa omitted in the former editions. 



6 ON THE DEATH OF 

See Observations upon the Statutes, &c, 4to. 2nd edit. 
1766, p. 71. 

However, in the Harl. Collection may be found other 
satirical and defamatory rhymes of the same age, that 
might have their share in contributing to thb first law 
against libels. 



11. 

We have here an early attempt at Elegy. Edward I. 
died July 7, 1807, in the d5th year of his reign, and 69th 
of hb age. This poem appears to have been composed 
soon after his death. According to the modes of thinking 
peculiar to those times, the writer dwells more upon his 
devotion, than his skill in government ; and pays less at- 
tention to the martial and political abilities of this great 
monarch, in which he had no equal, than to some little 
weaknesses of superstition, which he had in common with 
all his contemporaries. The king had in the decline of 
life vowed an expedition to the Holy Land ; but finding 
his end approach, he dedicated the sum of 82,000/. to the 
maintenance of a large body of knights, (140 say historians, 
80 says our poet,) who were to carry his heart with them 
into Palestine. This dying command of the king was 
never performed. Our poet, with the honest pr^udices 
of an Englishman, attributes this failure to the advice of 
the king of France, whose daughter Isabel, the young 
monarch, who succeeded, immediately married. But the 
truth is, Edward and his destructive favourite. Piers Gave- 
ston, spent the money upon their pleasures. To do the 
greater honour to the memory of his hero, our poet puts 
his eloge in the mouth of the Pope, with the same poetic 



K. EDWARD THE FIRST. 7 

licence as a more modern bard woald bare introdaced 
Britannia, or the Genius of Europe, pouring forth his 
pnuses. 

Tills antique elegy is extracted from the same MS. 
Yolume as the preceding article ; is found with the same 
peculiarities of writing and orthography; and, though 
written at near the distance of half a century, contains 
little or no variation of idiom : whereas the next follow- 
ing poem, by Chaucer, which was probably written not 
more than 50 or 60 years after this, exhibits almost a new 
language. This seems to countenance the opinion of some 
antiquaries, that this great poet made considerable inno- 
Yations in his mother tongue, and introduced many terms 
and new modes of speech from other languages. 



Alls, that beoth of huerte trewe, 

A stounde herkneth to my song 
Of duel, that Deth bath diht us newe, 

That maketh me syke, ant sore we among; 
Of a knyht, that wes sos trong, 5 

Of wham God hath don ys wille; 
Me-thuncheth that deth hath don us wrong, 

That he so sone shall ligge stille. 

Al Englond ahte for te knowe 

Of wham that song is, that y synge ; 10 

Of Edward kyng, that lith so lowe, 

Zent al this world is nome con springe : 
Trewest mon of alle thinge. 

Ant in werre war ant wys. 



8 . ON THE DEATH OF 

For him we ahte oure honden wrynge, 15 

Of Christendome he ber the prys. 

Byfore that oure kjrng was ded, 

He spek ase mon that wes in care, 
** Clerkes, knyhtes, barons, he sayde, 

Y charge ou by oure sware, 20 
That ye to Engelonde be trewe. 

Y deze, y ne may lyven na more ; 
Helpeth mi sone, ant crouneth him newe. 

For he is nest to buen y-core« 

" Ich biqueth myn herte arhyt, 25 

That hit be write at my devys. 
Over the see that Hue ^ be diht, 

With fourscore knyhtes al of prys, 
In werre that buen war ant wys, 

Azein the hethene for te fyhte, 30 

To Wynne the croiz that lowe lys, 

Myself ycholde zef that y myhte." 

Kyng of Fraunce, thou hevedest * sinne,' 
That thou the counsail woldest fonde, 

To latte the wille of * Edward kyng ' 35 

To wende to the holy londe : 

Yen 33, Bonne. >CS. T. 35, kyng Ed^rBrd. MS. 

^ This 18 probably the name of the person who was to preside 
oyer this business. 



.K. EDWARD THE FIRST. 9 

That oure kynge hede take on honde 
All Engelond to zeme ant wysse, 

To wenden in to the holy londe 

To wynnen us heveriche blisse. 40 

The messager to the pope com. 

And seyde that our kynge was ded : 
Ys oune hond the lettre he nom, 

Ywis his herte was full gret : 
The Pope him self the lettre redde, 45 

Ant spec a word of gret honour. 
" Alas ! he seid, is Edward ded ? 

Of Christendome he ber the flour." 

The Pope to is chaumbre wende, 

For dol ne mihte he speke na more ; 50 

Ant after cardinals he sende, 

That muche couthen of Cristes lore, 
Bothe the lasse, ant eke the more, 

Bed hem bothe rede ant synge : 
Gret deol me myhte se thore, 55 

Mony mon is honde wrynge. 

The Pope of Peyters stod at is masse 

With ful gret solempnete, 
Ther me con the soule blesse : 

" Kyng Edward honoured thou be : 60 

V. 43. ys is probably a contraction of in hys, or yn his. T. 55, 59, 
me, t. e, men ; so in Robert of Gloucester, passim. 



10 K. EDWARD THE FIRST. 

God love thi sone come after the, 

Bringe to ende that thou bast bygonne, 

The holy crois y-mad of tree, 

So fain thou woldest hit hav y-wonne« 

** Jerusalem, thou hast i-lore 65 

The flour of al chivalrie 
Now kyng Edward liveth na more : 

Alas ! that he zet shulde deye ! 
He wolde ha rered up ful heyze 

Oure banners, that bueth broht to grounde ; 70 
Wei ! longe we roowe clepe and crie 

£r we a such kyng ban y-founde." 

Nou is Edward of Camarvan 

King of Engelond al aplyht, 
God lete him ner be worse man 75 

Then his fader, ne lasse of myht. 
To holden is pore men to rybt, 

And understonde good counsail, 
Al Engelong for to wysse ant dyht ; 

Of gode knyhtes darh him nout fail. 80 

Thah mi tonge were mad of stel, 

Ant min herte yzote of bras. 
The godness myht y never telle, 

That with kyng Edward was : 
Kyng, as thou art cleped conquerour, 85 

In uch bataille thou hadest prys ; 



BALLAD BT CHAUCBB. 11 

God bringe thi soule to the honour, 
That ever wes, ant ever ys *. 

* Here follow in the original three lines mere, which, as seem- 
inglj redundant, are thus appended, viz. 

That lasteth ay withouten ende, 
Bidde we God, ant oure Ledj to thilke hlisse 
Jesus us sende. Amen. 



III. 



9n orijjtfnal HMtCtf ijn Citiuttv. 

This little sonnet, which bath escaped all the editors of 
Chaucer's works, is now printed for the first time from an 
ancient MS. in the Pepysian library, that contains many 
other poems of its yenerable author. The versification is 
of that species which the French call Eondeau, very natu- 
rally Englished by our honest countrymen Bound O. 
Though so early adopted by them, our ancestors had not 
the honour of inventing it : Chaucer picked it up, along 
with other better things, among the neighbouring nations. 
A fondness for laborious trifles hath always prevailed in 
the dark ages of literature. The Greek poets have had 
their umgs and tues : the great father of Englbh poesy 
may therefore be pardoned one poor solitary rondeau, 
Geofrey Chaucer died Oct. 25, 1400, aged 72. 

I. 1. 

Yours two eyn will sle me sodenly 
I may the beaute of them not sustene, 
So wendeth it thorowout my herte kene. 



12 BAlsLAD BT CHAUCER. 

2. 

And but your words will helen faastely 
My faertis wound, while that it is grene, 
Youre two eyn will sle me sodenly. 

3. 

,Upon my trouth I seyyow feithfully, 
That ye ben of my lifFe and deth the quene ; 
For with my deth the trouth shal be sene. 
Youre two eyn, &c. 

II. 1- 

So hath youre beauty fro your herte chased 
Pitee, that me n* availeth not to pleyn : 
For daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne. 

2. 

Giltless my deth thus have ye purchased ; 
I sey yow soth, me nedeth not to fayn : 
So hath your beaute fro your herte chased. 

3. 

Alas, that nature hath in yow compassed 
So grete beaute, that no man may atteyn 
To mercy, though he sterve for the peyn. 
So hath youre beaute, &c. 

III. 1. 

Syn I fro love escaped am so fat, 

I nere thinke to ben in his prison lene ; 

Syn I am fre, I counte hym not a bene. 



THE TVRKAMENT OF TOTTENHAM. 18 

2. 

He may answere, and sey this and that, 
I do no fors, I speak ryght as I mene ; 
Syn I fro love escaped am so fat. 

3. 
Love hath my name i-strike out of his sclat, 
And he is strike out of my bokes clene : 
For ever mo * ther * ' is non other mene, 
Syn I fro love escaped, &c. 

1 This. MS. 



IV. 
Cjbe Cttntament ot Cottenj^am ; 

OR, THE WOOEING, WINNING, AND WEDDING OF TIBBE, 
THE KEEV'S DAVGHTEB THERE. 

It does honour to the good sense of this nation, that while 
all Earope was captivated with the bewitchiag charms of 
chivalry and romance, two of our writers in the rudest 
times could see through the false glare that surrounded 
them, and discover whatever was absurd in them both. 
Chaucer wrote his Rhyme of Sir Thopas in ridicule of the 
latter ; and in the following poem we have a humorous 
burlesque of the former. Without pretending to decide 
whether the institution of chivalry was upon the whole 
useful or pernicious in the rude ages, a question that has 
lately employed many good writers \ it evidently encou- 

1 See [Mr. Kurd's] Letters on Chivalry, 8vo. 1762. Memoir© 
de la Chevalerie, par M. de la Cume des Palais, 1759, 2 torn. 
12mo, &c. 



14 THE TURNAMENT OF TOTTENHAM. 

raged a vindictiTe spirit, and gave such force to the 
custom of duelling, that there is little hope of its being 
abolished. This, together with the fatal consequences 
which often attended the diversion of the Turnament, 
was sufficient to render it obnoxious to the graver part of 
mankind. Accordingly the Church early denounced its 
censures against it, and the State was often prevailed on 
to attempt its suppression. But fashion and opinion are 
superior to authority : and the proclamations against tilt- 
ing were as little regarded in those times, as the laws 
against duelling are in these. This did not escape the 
discernment of our poet, who easily perceived that in- 
veterate opinions must be attacked by other weapons 
besides proclamations and censures ; he accordingly made 
use of the keen one of Ridicule. With this view he has 
here introduced with admirable humour a parcel of clowns, 
imitating all the solemnities of the Tourney. Here we 
have the regular challenge — ^the appointed day — the lady 
for the prize — the formal preparations — the display of ar- 
mour — the scutcheons and devices — the oaths taken on 
entering the lists — the various accidents of the encounter 
— the victor leading off the prize — and the magnificent 
feasting — with all the other solemn fopperies chat usually 
attended the pompous turnament. And how acutely the 
sharpness of the author^s humour must have been felt in 
those days, we may learn from what we can perceive of 
its keenness now, when time has so much blunted the edge 
of his ridicule. 

The Turnament of Tottenham was first printed from an 
ancient MS. in 1681, 4to., by the Rev. Whilhem Bedwell, 
rector of Tottenham, who was one of the translators of the 
Bible. He tells us it was written by Gilbert Pilkington, 
thought to have been some time parson of the same parish, 
and author of another piece, entitled Pastio Domnd Jetu 
ChrisH, Bedwell, who was eminently skilled in the ori- 
ental and other languages, appears to have been but little 



THE TURKAHENT OF TOTTXKHAK. 15 

conyersant with the ancient writers in his own ; and he 
so little entered into the spirit of the poem he was pub- 
lishing, that he contends for its being a serious narrative 
of a real event, and thinks it must have been written be- 
fore the time of Edward III., because tumaments were 
prohibited in that reign. " I do verilj believe," says he, 
** that this Tumament was acted before this proclamation 
of King Edward. For how durst any to attempt to do 
that, although in sport, which was so straightly forbidden, 
both by the civill and ecclesiasticall power ? For although 
they fought not with lances, yet, as our author sayth, * It 
was no children's game.' And what would have become 
of him, thinke you, which should have slayne another in 
this manner of jeasting ? Would he not, trow you, have 
been hanged for it in earnest f yea, and have bene buried 
Sieadoggef It is, however, well known that tuma- 
ments were in use down to the reign of Elizabeth. 

In the former editions of this work, Bedwell's copy was 
reprinted here, with some few conjectural emendations ; 
but as Bedwell seemed to have reduced the orthography 
at least, if not the phraseology, to the standard of his own 
time, it was with great pleasure that the Editor was in- 
formed of an ancient MS. copy preserved in the Museum, 
[Harl. MSS. 5396,] which appeared to have been trans- 
cribed in the reign of Ring Henry YL, about 1456. This 
obliging information the Editor owed to the friendship of 
Thomas Tyrwhitt, Esq., and he has chiefly followed that 
more authentic transcript, improved however by some 
readings from Bedwell's book. 



Of all theskene conquerours to carpe it were kynde; 
Of fele feyztyng folk ferly we fynde, 
The Tumament of Totenham have we in mynde ; 
It were harme sych hardynes were holden byhynde, 



16 THE TURNAMSNT OF TOTTENHAIf. 

In story as we rede 5 

Of Hawkyn, of Herry, 
Of Tomkyn, of Terry, 
Of them that were dughty 
And stalworth in dede. 

It befel in Toten\am on a dere day, 10 

Ther was mad a shurtyng be the hy*way : 
Theder com al the men of the contray, 
Of Hyssylton, of Hy-gate, and of Hakenay, 
And all the swete swynkers. 

Ther hopped Hawkyn, 15 

Ther daunsed Dawkyn, 
Ther trumped Tomkyn, 

And all were trewe drynkers. 

Tyl the day was gon and evyn-song past. 
That they schuld reckyn ther scot and ther counts 
cast; 20 

Perkyn the potter into the press past, 
And sayd Randol the refe, a dozter thou hast, 
Tyb the dere : 

Therfor faine wyt wold I, 

Whych of all thys bacLelery 25 

Were best worthye 

To wed hur to hys fere. 

Upstyrt thos gadelyngys wyth ther lang staves, 

And sayd, Randol the refe, lo ! thys lad raves ; 

Ver. 20. It is not very clear in tlie MS. whether it should be 
conts or oonters. 



f 



THE TURMAMENT OF TOTTSNHAK. 17 

Boldely amang us thy dozter he craves ; 30 

We er rycher men than he, and mor gode haves 
Of cattell and corn ; 

Then sayd Perkyn, To Tybbe I have hyzt 
That I schal be alway redy in my ryzt, 
If that it schuld be thys day sevenyzt, 35 
Or elles zet to mom. 

Then sayd Randolfe the refe, Ever be he waryd, 
That about thys carpyng lenger wold be taryd : 
I wold not my dozter, that scho were miscaryd, 
But at hur most worschip I wold scho were maryd ; 
Therfor a Tumament schal begynne 41 

Thys day sevenyzt, — 
Wyth a flayl for to fyzt : 
And * he ' that is most of myght 

Schal brouke hur wyth wynne. 45 

Whoso berys hym best in the turnament, 
Hym schal be granted the gre be the comon assent. 
For to Wynne my dozter wyth 'dughtynesse' of dent, 
And * coppell ' my brode-henne 'that' was brozt out 
And my dunnyd kowe, [of Kent : 

For no spens wyl I spare, 51 

For no cattell wyl I care. 
He schal have my gray mare. 
And my spottyd sowe. 



»( 



V. 48, dozty. MS. Y. 49, coppeld. We BtiU aw the pbme 

» copple-crowned hen.** 



VOL. II. 



18 THE TUBNAMEMT OF TOTTENHAM. 

Ther was many * a ' bold lad ther bodyes to bede : 55 
Than thay toke thayr leve, and bomward they zede ; 
And all die weke afterward graythed ther wede, 
Tyll it come to the day, that thay suld do ther dede. 
They armed tham in matts ; 

Thay set on ther noUys, 60 

For to kepe ther poUys, 
God^ blake bollys, 

For batmyg of bats. 

Thay sowed tham in schepeskynnes, for thay schuld 

not brest : 
Ilk-on toke a blak hat, insted of a crest : 65 

' A basket or a panyer before on ther brest,' 
And a flayle in ther hande ; for to fyght prest, 
Furth gon thay fare : 

Ther was kyd mekyl fors, 
Who schuld best fend hys cors : 70 

He that had no gode hors, 
He gat hym a mare. 

Sych another gadryng have I not sene oft, 
When all the gret company com rydand to the croft: 
Tyb on a gray mare was set up on loft 75 

On a sek ful of fedyrs, for scho schuld syt soft, 

y. 57, gayed. f.c. Y. 66 ii ^uruiting in MS. ind supplied 

from P c. y. 72, he borrowed him. p.c. y. 76, the 

MS. had once iedyt^ i. e. «0wb, which appears to have been altered 
tn/edjfn, or feathers. Bedwell^B copy ha« M»oy, i. e. mustard-teed. 



THX TUBNAHENT OF TOTTENHAM. 19 

And led ' dll the gap.' 

For cryeng of the men 
Forther wcdd not Tyb then, 
Tyl 8cho had har brode hen 80 

Set in hur Lap. 

A gay gyrdyl Tyb had on, borowed for the nonys, 
And a garland on hur hed ful of rounde bonys, 
And a broche on hur brest ful of ' sapphyre ' stonys, 
Wyth the holy-rode tokenyng, was wrotyn for the 
For no ' spendings ' thay had spared, [nonys ; 
When joly Gyb saw hur thare, 87 

He gyrd so hys gray mare, 
' That scho lete a fowkin ' fare 

At the rereward. 90 

I wow to God, quoth Herry, I schal not lefe behynde. 
May I mete wyth Bernard on Bayard the blynde, 
Ich man kepe hym out of my wynde. 
For whatsoever that he be, before me I fynde, 

I wot I schall hym greve. 95 

Wele sayd, quoth Hawkyn, 
And I wow, quoth Dawkyn, 
May I mete wyth Tomkyn, 

Hys flayle I schal hym reve. 99 

Y. 77, And led hur to cap. M& Y. 83, Bedwell*i f.c. has 

rud-bones. V. 84, nfer itones. MS. V. 85, wrotyn, 

t.e. wrought, p. c. reads tmiMen. Y. 86, no catel [perhaps 

t^aUl] they had spared. MS. Y. 89, Then . . . iancon. MS. 

c 2 



20 THE TURKAMENT OF TOTTENHAM. 

I make a vow, quoth Hud, Tyb, son schal thou se, 
Whych of all thys bachelery ' granted ' is the gre : 
I schal scomfet thaym all, for the love of the ; 
In what place so I come thay schal have doutof me, 
Myn arroes ar so clere : 

I here a reddyl, and a rake, 105 

Poudred wyth a brenand drake. 
And three cantells of a cake 
In ycha comere. 

I vow to God, quoth Hawkyn, yf 'I ' have the gowt, 
Al that I fynde in the felde *thrustand' here aboute, 
Have I twyes or thryes redyn thurgh the route, 111 
In ycha stede ther thay me se, of me thay schal have 
doute. 
When I begyn to play. 

I make avowe that I ne schal! , 
But yf Tybbe wyl me call, 115 

Or I be thryes don fall, 
Ryzt onys com away. 

Then sayd Terry, and swore be hys crede ; 
Saw thou never yong boy forther hys body bede, 
For when thay fyzt fastest and most ar in drede, 120 
I schall take Tyb by the hand, and hur away lede : 
I am armed at the full ; 

In myn armys I here wele 

V. 101, grant. MS. V. 109, yf he have. MS. V. 110, 

the MS. literally has M'. sand hen. 



THB TURNAMEKT OF TOTTENHAM. 21 

A doz trogh, and a pele, 
A sadyll wythout a panell, 125 

Wyth a fles of woll. 

I make a vow, quoth Dudman, and swor be the stra, 
Whyls me ys left my * mare,' thou gets hurr not swa ; 
For scho ys wele schapen, and lizt as the rae, 
Ther is no capul in thys myle befor hur schal ga; 130 
Sche wul ne nozt begyle : 

Sche wyl me here, I dar say, 
On a lang somerys day, 
Fro Hyssylton to Hakenay, 

Nozt other half myle, 135 

I make a vow, quoth Perkyn, thow speks of cold rost, 
I schal wyrch ' wyselyer ' without any host : 
Five of the best capulys, that ar in thys ost, 
I wot I schal thaym wynne, and bryng thaym to my 
And here I grant thaym Tybbe. [cost, 

Wele boyes here ys he, 141 

That wyl fyzt, and not fle, 
For I am in my jolyte, 

Wyth so forth, Gybbe. 

When thay had ther vowes made, furth can thay hie, 
Wyth flayles, and homes, and trumpes mad of tre : 
Ther were all the bachelerys of that contre ; 147 
Thay were dyzt in aray, as thaymselfes wold be : 

V. 128, mcrth. MS. V. 137, iwysclior. MS. V. 146, 

ilailea, and hamisse. p.c. 



22 THE TURNAHENT OF TOTTENHAM. 

Thayr baners were fill bryzt 

Of an old rotten fell ; 1 50 

The cheveron of a plow-mell ; 
And the schadow of a bell, 

' Quartred ' wyth the mone lyst. 

I wot yt ' was ' no chylder game, whan thay togedyr 
When icha freke in the feld on hys feloy bet, [met, 
And layd on styfly, for nothyng wold thay let, 156 
And foght ferly fast, tyll ther horses swet, 
And few wordys spoken. 

Ther were flayles al so slatred, 
Ther were scheldys al to flatred, 160 

BoUys and dysches al to schatred, 
And many hedys brokyn. 

Ther was clynkyng of cart-sadelys, and clatteryng 

of Cannes ; 
Of fele frekys in the feld brokyn were their fannes ; 
Of sum were the hedys brokyn, of sum the brayn- 
pannes, 165 

And yll were thay besene, or thay went thanns, 
Wyth swyppjrng of swepyls : 

Thay were so wery for-foght, 
Thay myzt not fyzt mare olofl. 
But creped about in the ^ croft,* 1 70 

As thay were croked crepyls. 

V. 151, The chiefe, p.c. V. 163, Poudred: MS. V. 154, 
yt ys. MS. V. 1 68, The boyes were. MS. V. 170, creped 

then about in the croft. MS. 



THE TURNAHENT OF TOTTENHAM. 23 

Perkyn was so wery, that he began to loute ; 
Help, Hud, I am ded in thys ylk rowte : 
An hors for forty pens, a gode and a stoute ! 
That I may lyzdy come of my noye oute, 175 

For no cost wyl I spare. 
He styrt up as a snayle, 
And hent a capul be the tayle, 
And * reft ' Dawkin hys flayle. 

And wan there a mare. 180 

Perkyn wan five, and Hud w&n twa : 
Glad and blythe thay ware, that thay had don sa ; 
Thay wold have tham to Tyb, and present hur with tha: 
The CapuUs were so wery, that thay myzt not ga, 
But styl gon thay stond. 185 

Alas ! quoth Hudde, my joye I lese : 
Mee had l^ver then a ston of chese, 
That dere Tyb had al these, 
And wyst it were my sond. 

Perkyn tumyd hym about in that ych thrang, 190 
Among those wery boyes he wrest and he wrang ; 
He threw tham doun to the erth, and thrast tham 
When he saw Tyrry away wyth Tyb fang, [amang, 
And after hym ran ; 

Off his horse he hym drogh, 195 

And gaf hym of hys flayl inogh : 

v. m, mt MS. y. 185, stud. Ma Y. 189, sand. MS. 
V. 190, ilk throng, p.c. 



24 ' THE TURNAMENT OF TOTTENHAM. 

We te he ! quoth Tyb, and lugh, 
Ye er a dughty man. 

*Thus' thay tugged, and rugged, tyl yt was nere nyzt : 
All the wy ves of Totenham came to see that syzt 200 
Wyth wyspes, and kexis, and ryschys there lyzt, 
To fetch hom ther husbandes, that were tham trouth 
plyzt ; 
And some brozt gret harwos, 

Ther husbandes hom to fetch, 
Som on dores, and sum on hech, 205 

Sum on hyrdyllys, and som on crech, 
And sum on whele-barows. 

Thay gaderyd Perkyn about, * on * everych syde. 
And grant hym ther ' the gre,' the more was hys pryde : 
Tyb and he, wyth gret ' mirth,* liomeward con thay 

ryde, 
And were al nyzt togedyr, tyl the morn tyde : 211 
And thay ' to church went :' 

So wele hys nedys he has sped, 
That dere Tyb he * hath * wed ; 
The prayse-folk, that hur led, 215 

Were of the Tumament. 

V. 199, Thys. MS. V. 204, hom for to fetch. MS. 

V. 208, about everych side. MS. V. 209, the gre, ii wanting 

in MS. V. 210, mothe. MS. V. 212, And thay ifere 

assent. MS. Y. 214, had wed. MS. Y. 215, The 

cheefemen. f.c. 



THE TURKAHENT OF TOTTENHAM. 25 

To that ylk fest com many for the nones ; 

Some come hyphalte, and some trippand ' thither ' on 

the stonys : 
Sum a staf in hys hand, and sum two at onys ; 
Of sum where the hedes broken, of some the schulder 
bonys : 2*20 

With sorrow come thay thedyr. 

Wo was Hawkyn, wo was Herry, 
Wo was Tomkyn, wo was Terry, 
And so was all the bachelary, 

When thay met togedyr. 225 

' At that fest thay wer servyd with a ryche aray, 
Every fyve and fy ve had a cokenay ; 
And so thay sat in jolyte al the lung day ; 
And at the last thay went to bed with ful gret deray : 
Mekyl myrth was them among ; 230 

In every comer of the hous 
Was melody delycyous 
For to here precyus 

Of six menys song'. 

V. 218, trippand on. MS. 

' In the former impressions, this concluding stanza was only 
given from BedwelVs printed edition ; but it is here copied from the 
old MS. wherein it has been since found, separated from the rest of 
the poem by sereral pages of a money-account, and other hetero- 
geneous matter. 

' Siz-men*s song, i. e. a song for six Voices. So Shakspeare uses 
Three-man song-men, in his Winter's TcUe^ act iii. se. 3, to denote 
men that could sing Catches composed for three Voices. Of this 
sort are Weelkes^s Madrigals mentioned below, book it song 9. 
So again Shakspeare has Three-men beetle ; •'. «. a beetle or rammer 
woiked by three men, 2 Hen, IV. act i. sc. 3. 



26 



FOR THE VICTORY. AT AGIKCOURT. 



0iuiAtKl V[^M (or Ht Vittcvp at ^gint^nvt 



i 



-IT" 







IW 



l>eo gratiat Anglia 




EOE 



♦ * ■ 



■♦--» 



retfiie pro vietoHa, 

^^ " -'^ 



Owre Kjmge went finth to Nomuoidy with grace and 

n ' ^ ' 'I' ' '" ^M . 



niTZt of chlyaliy ; the God for him wronzt maryeloasly, 



K^ ■ .. . _ in*^.*u. 



5 



Wherefore Englonde may calle, and cry Deo QraHat, 



!■■»■*.» ■ * i ^^ ij^M^ 



aa 

H 



p 



■■# ■* ♦ 



.iituli.ll.. 



D«o Oroliat, Anglia redde pn Vietoria. 





FOR THE VICTORY AT AOIMCOURT. 27 

V. 
Jfov Ht Wittovjdi at ^gfixtontt* 

That onr plain and martial ancestors could wield their 
swords much better than their pens, will appear from the 
following homely rhymes, which were drawn up by some 
poet-laureate of those days to celebrate the immortal vic- 
tory gained at Agincourt, Oct. 25, 1415. This song or 
hymn is given merely as a curiosity, and is printed from 
a MS. copy in the Pepys collection, vol. i. fol. It is there 
accompanied with the musical notes, which are here 
copied. 

Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria ! 
OwRX kynge went forth to Normandy, 
With grace and my zt of chivalry ; 
The God for him wrouzt marvelously, 
Wherefore Englonde may calle, and cry 5 

Deo gratias : 
Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria. 

He sette a sege, the sothe for to say. 

To Harflue toune with ryal aray ; 

That toune he wan, and made a fray, 10 

That Fraunce shall ry we tyl domes day. 

Deo gratias, ^c. 

Then went owre kynge, with alle his oste, 
Thorowe Fraunce for all the Frenshe boste ; 
He spared ' for ' drede of leste, ne most, 15 

Tyl he come to Agincourt coste. 

Deo gratias, ^c. 



28 THE NOT-BROWNE MATD. 

Than for sothe that knyzt comely 

In Agincdurt feld he fauzt manly, 

Thorow grace of God most myzty 20 

He had both the felde, and the victory : 

Deo GratiaSf <^c. 

Ther dukys, and erlys, lorde and barone, 
Were take, and slayne, and that wel sone, 
And some were ledde in to Lundone 25 

With joye, and merthe, and grete renone. 

Deo gratiaSy 8^c. 

Now gracious God he save owre kynge, 

His peple, and all his wel wyllynge, 

Gef him gode lyfe, and gode endynge, 30 

That we with merth mowe savely synge 

Deo gratias : 
Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria. 



VI. 

The sentimental beauties of this. ancient ballad have 
always recommended it to readers of taste, notwithstand- 
ing the rust of antiquity which obscures the style and ez- 
prJBssion. Indeed, if it had no other merit than the having 
afforded the ground-work to Prior's Henry and Emma, this 
ought to preserve it from oblivion. That we are able to 
give it in so correct a manner, is owing to the great care 



THE NOT-BROWKE MATD. 29 

and exactness of the accurate editor of the Prolwums, 
8yo. 1760; who has formed the text from two copies 
found in two different editions of Amolde^s Chronicle, a 
book supposed to be first printed about 1521. From the 
copy in the Prolusions the following is printed, with a few 
additional improvements gathered from another edition 
of Amolde*8 book \ preserved in the public library at 
Cambridge. All the various readings of this copy will 
be found here, either received into the text, or noted in 
the margin. The references to the Prolusions will show 
where they occur. In our ancient folio MS. described in 
the preface, is a very corrupt and defective copy of this 
ballad, which yet afforded a great improvement in one 
passage. See v. 310. 

It has been a much easier task to settle the text of this 
poem, than to ascertain its date. The ballad of the Not 
Browne Mayd was first revived in The Muses Mercury for 
June 1707, 4to., being prefaced with a little ** Essay on 
the old English Poets and Poetry :** in which this poem 
is concluded to be '* near 300 years old," upon reasons 
which, though they appear inconclusive to us now, were 
sufficient to determine Prior, who there first met with it. 
However, this opinion had the approbation of the learned 
Wanley, an excellent judge of ancient books. For that 
whatever related to the reprinting of this old piece was 
referred to Wanley, appears from two letters of Prior's 
preserved in the British Museum [Harl. MSS.No. 3777]. 
The editor of the Prolusions thinks it cannot be older 
than the year 1500, because in Sir Thomas More*s tale of 
The Serjeant, &c., which was written about that time, there 

^ This (which my friend Mr. Farmer supposes to be the first 
edition) is in folio : the folios are numbered at the bottom of the 
leaf: the song begins at folio 75. The poem has since been col- 
lated with a very fine copy that was in the collection of the late 
James West, Esq. ; the readings extracted thence an denoted thus, 
' Mr. W.' 



80 THE NOT-BROWNE MATD. 

appears a sameness of rhjthmus and orthography, and a 
yery near affinity of words and phrases, with those of this 
ballad. But this reasoning is not conclusive ; for if Sir 
Thomas More made this ballad his model, as is yery 
likely, that will account for the sameness of measure, and 
in some respect for that of words and phrases, even though 
this had been written long before ; and, as for the ortho- 
graphy, it is well known that the old printers reduced 
that of most books to the standard of their own times. 
Indeed it is hardly probable that an antiquary like Ar- 
nolde would have inserted it among his historical Collec- 
tions, if it had been then a modern piece ; at least, he 
would haye been apt to have named its author. But to 
show how little can be inferred from a resemblance of 
rhythmus or style, the Editor of these volumes has in his 
ancient folio MS. a poem on the victory of Flodden-6eld, 
written in the same numbers, with the same alliterations, 
and in orthography, phraseology, and style nearly resem- 
bling the Vwont of Pierce Plowman^ which are yet known 
to have been composed above 160 years before that battle. 
As this poem is a great curiosity, we shall give a few of 
the introductory lines : 

" Grant gracious God, grant me this time, 
That I may *sa7, or I cease, thy selven to please ; 
And Mary his mother, that maketh this world ; 
And all the seemlie saints, that sitten in heaven ; 
I will carpe of kings, that conquered full ivide, 
That dwelled in this land, that was alyes noble ; 
Henry the seventh, that soveraigne lord,** &c. 

With regard to the date of the following ballad, we have 
taken a middle course, neither placed it so high as Wan- 
ley and Prior, nor quite so low as the editor of the Pro- 
lusions : we should have followed the latter in diriding 
every other line into two, but that the whole would then 
haye taken up more room than could be allowed it in this 
volume. 



THB NOT-BROWNE MAYD. 31 

Be it ryght, or wrong, these men among 

On women do complayne ^ ; 
Affyimynge this, how that it is 

A labour spent in vayne, 
To love them wele ; for never a dele 5 

They love a man agayne : 
For late a man do what he can, 

Theyr favour to attayne, 
Yet, yf a newe do them persue, 

Theyr first true lover than 10 

Laboureth for nought ; for from her thonght 

He is a banyshed man« 

I say nat nay, but that all day 

It is bothe writ and sayd 
That womans faith is, as who sayth 15 

All utterly decayd ; 
But, neverthelesse, ryght good wytnesse 

In this case might be layd. 
That they love true, and continue : 

Recorde the Not-browne Mayde : 20 

Which, when her love came, her to prove. 

To her to make his mone, 
Wolde nat depart : for in her hart 

She loved but hym alone. 

Ver. 2, woman. ProlosioiiB, and Mr. Weat*8 copy. V. 1 1, 

her, ft. 0. their. 

^ My friend, Mr. Fanner, proposes to read the first lines thus, 
as a Latinism : 

Be it right or wrong, *tis men among. 
On women to complayne. 



32 THE NOT- BROWNE MAYD. 

Than betwjiine us late us dyscus 25 

What was all the manere 
Betwayne them two : we wyll also 

Tell all the payne, and fere, 
That she was in. Nowe I begyn, 

So that ye me answ^re ; 30 

Wherefore, all ye, that present be 

I pray you, gyve an ere, 
** I am the knyght ; I come by nyght, 

As secret as I can ; 
Sayinge, Alas ! thus standeth the case, 35 

I am a banyshed man." 

SHE. 

And I your wyll for to fulfyll 

In this wyll nat refuse ; 
Trustying to shewe, in word^s fewe. 

That men have an yll use 40 

(To theyr own shame) women to blame, i 

And causelesse them accuse ; 
Therfore to you I answere nowe,' 

All women to excuse, — 
Myne owne hart dere, with you whatchere ? 45 

I pray you tell anone ; 
For, in my m3mde, of all mankynde 

I love but you alone. 

HE. 

It standeth so ; a dede is do 

Wherof grete harme shall growe : 50 



THE NOT-BROWNE MAYD, 83 

My destiny is for to dy 

A shameful! deth, I trowe ; 
Or elles to fie : the one must be. 

None other way I knowe, *' 

But to withdrawe as an outlawe, 55 

And take me to my bowe. 
Wherfore, adue, my owne hart true ! 

None other rede I can : 
For I must to the grene wode go, 

Alone, a banyshed man. 60 

SHE. 

Lord, what is thys worldys blysse, 
That changeth as the mone ! 

My somers day in lusty may 
Is derked before the none. 

1 here you say, farewell : Nay, nay, 65 

We depart nat so sone. 
Why say ye so ? wheder wyll ye go ? 

Alas ! what have ye done ? 
All my Welfare to sorrowe and care 

Sholde chaunge, yf ye were gone ; 70 

For, in my m3mde, of all mankynde 

I love but you alone. 

HE. 

I can beleve, it shall you greve, 
And somewhat you dystrayne ; 

V, 63, The Bomers. Prol. 
VOL. II. D 



34 THE NOT-BROWNE MATD. 

Bu^ ailyrwarde, your paynes harde 75 

Within a day or twayne 
Shall sone aslake ; and ye shall take 

Comfort to you agayne. 
Why sholde ye ought ? for, to make thought, 

Your labour were in vayne. 80 

And thus I do ; and pray you to, 

As hartely as I can ; 
For I must to the grene wode go. 

Alone, a banyshed man. 

SHE. 

Now, syth that ye have shewed t^ me 85 

The secret of your mynde, 
I shall be playne to you agayne, 

Lyke as ye shall me fynde. 
Syth it is so, that ye wyll go, 

I wolle not leve behynde ; 90 

Shall never be sayd, the Not-browne Mayd 

Was to her love unkynde : 
Make you redy, for so am I, 

Allthough it were anone ; 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 95 

I love but you alone. 

HE. 

Yet I you rede to take good hede 
What men wyll thynke, and say : 
V 91, Shall it never, Prol. and Mr. W. V. 94, Althought. Mr. W. 



THE KOT-BBOWNE MAYD. 36 

Of yonge and olde it shall be tolde, 

That ye be gone away, 100 

Your wanton wyll for to fulfill, 

In grene wode you to play ; 
And that ye myght from your delyght 

No lenger make delay. 
Rather than ye sholde thus for me 1 05 

Be called an yll woman, 
Yet wolde I to the grene wode go, 

Alone, a banyshed man. 

SHE. 

Though it be songe of old and yonge. 

That I sholde be to blame, 110 

Theyrs be the charge, that speke so large 

In hurtynge of my name : 
For I wyll prove, that faythfuUe love 

It is devoyd of shame ; 
In your dystresse, and hevynesse, 115 

To part with you, the same : 
And sure all tho, that do not so, 

True lovers are they none ; 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 

I love but you alone. 120 

HE. 

I counceyle you, remember howe. 
It is no maydens lawe, 

V. 117, To Bhewe all. Prol. and Mr. W. 
P 2 



36 THE NOT-BROWNE MATD. 

Nothynge to dout, but to renne out 

To wode with an outlawe : 
For ye must there in your hand bere 125 

A bowe, redy to drawe ; 
And, as a thefe, thus must you lyve, 

Ever in drede and awe ; 
Wlierby to you grete harme myght growe : 

Yet had I lever than, 130 

That I had to the grene wode go, 

Alone, a banyshed man. 

SHE, 

I thinke nat nay, but as ye say, 

It is no maydens lore : 
But love may make me for your sake, 135 

As I have sayd before 
To come on fote, to hunt, and shote 

To gete us mete^ in store ; 
For so that I your company 

May have, I aske no more : 140 

From which to part, it maketh my hart 

As colde as ony stone ; 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 

I love but you alone. 

HE. 

For an outlawe this is the lawe, 145 

That men hym take and bynde ; 

V. 133, 1 say nat. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 138, and store. Camb. copy. 



THE KOT-BROWNE MAYD^ 37 

Without pyt^, hanged to be, 

And waver with the wynde. 
If I had nede, (as God forbede !) 

What rescous coud ye fynde ? 150 

Forsoth, I trowe, ye and your bowe 

For fere wolde drawe behynde : 
And no mervayle ; for lytell avayle 

Were in your counceyle than : 
Wherefore I wyll to the grene wode go, 155 

Alone, a banyshed man. 

SHE. 

Ryght wele knowe ye, that women be 

But feble for tq fyght ; 
No womanhede it is indede 

To be bolde as a knyght : 160 

Yet, in such fere yf that ye were 

With enemyes day or nyght, 
I wolde withstande, with bowe in hande, 

To greve them as I myght, 
And you to save ; as women have 165 

From det& ' men ' many one : 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 

I love but you alone. .. 

HE. 

Yet take good hede ; for ever I drede 

That ye coude nat sustayne 170 

V. 150, Bocoun. Prol. and Mr. W. T. 162, aud night Camb. 
copy. v. 164, to helpe y« with my myght. Prol. and Mr. W. 



38 THE NOT-BROWNE MATD. 

The thornie wayes, the depe val^ies, 

The snowe, the frost, the rayne, 
The colde, the hete : for dry, or wete, 

We must lodge on the playne ; 
And, us above, none other rofe 175 

But a brake bush, or twayne : 
Which sone sholde greve you, I belere ; 

And ye wolde gladly than 
That I had to the grene wode go, 

Alone, a banyshed man. 180 

SHE. 

Syth I have here bene part3rndre 

With you of joy and blysse, 
I must also parte of your wo 

Endure, as reson is : 
Yet am I sure of one plesure ; 185 

And, shortely, it is this : 
That, where ye be, me semeth, pardd, 

I coude nat fare aroysse. 
Without more speche, I you beseche 

That we were sone agone ; 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 190 

I love but you alone. 

HE. 

If ye go thyder, ye must consyder, 
Whan ye have lust to dyne, 

V. 172, frost and rayne. Mr. TV. V. 174, Ye must Prol. 

V. 189, shortley gone. Prol. and Mr. W. 



THE NOT-BROWNE MATD. 39 

There shall no mete be for you gete^ 195 

Nor drinke, here, ale, ne W3rne« 
Ne shet^s dene, to lye betwene, 

Made of threde and twyne ; 
None other house, but leves and bowes. 

To cover your bed and myne, 200 

O myne harte swete, this evyll dydte 

Sholde make you pale and wan ; 
Wherfore I wyll to the grene wode go. 

Alone, a banyshed man. 

SHE. 

Among the wylde dere, such an arch^re, 205 

As men say that ye be, 
Ne may nat fayle of good vitayle. 

Where is so grete plenty : 
And water clere of the ry vdre 

Shall be full swete to me ; 210 

With which in hele I shall ryght wele 

Endure, as ye shall see ; 
And, or we go, a bedde or two 

I can prevyde anone ; 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 215 

I lore but you alone. 

HE. 

Lo yet, before, ye must do more, 
Yf ye wyll go with me : 

V. 196, Ncyther here. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 201, Lo myn. 

Mr. "W. V. 207, May ye nat feyle. Prol. lb. May nat 

fayle. Mr. W. 



40 THE KOT-BROWNE HATD. 

As cut your here up by your ere, 

Your kyrtel by the kne ; 220 

With bowe in hande, for to withstande 

Your enemyes, yf nede be : 
And this same nyght before day-lyght^ 

To wode-warde wyll I fle. 
Yf that ye wyll all this fulfill, 225 

Do it shortely as ye can : 
Els wyll I to the grene wode go, 

Alone, a banyshed man. 

SHE. 

I shall as nowe do more for you 

Than longeth to womanhede ; 230 

To shorte my here, a bow to here, 

To shote in tyme of nede. 
O my swete mother, before all other 

For you I have most drede : 
But nowe, adue ! I must ensue, 235 

Where fortune doth me lede. 
All this mark ye : Now let us fle ; 

The day cometh fast upon ; 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 

I love but you alone. 240 

HE. 

Nay, nay, nat so ; ye shall nat go, 
And I shall tell ye why, 

V. 219, above your ere. Prol. V. 220, above the kne. Prol. 

and Mr. W. T. 223, the same. Prol and Mr. W. 



THE KOT-BROWKE MATD. 41 

Your appetyght is to be lyght 

Of love, I wele espy ! 
For, lyke as ye have sayed to me, 245 

In lyke wyse hardely 
Ye wolde answ^re whosoever it were, 

In way of company. 
It is sayd of olde, Sone hote, sone colde ; 

And so is It woman. 250 

Wherfore I to the wode wyll go, 

Alone, a banyshed man. 

SHE. 

Yf ye take hede, it is no nede 

Such wordes to say by me ; 
For oft ye prayed, and longe assayed, 255 

Or I you loved, parde : 
And though that I of auncestry 

A barons daughter be. 
Yet have you proved howe I you loved 

A squyer of lowe degre ; 260 

And ever shall, whatso befall ; 

To dy therfore * anone ; 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 

I love but you alone. 

y. 251, For I must to tlie grene wode go. Prol. and Mr. W. 
v. 253, yet is. Camb. copy : perhaps for y< w. V. 262, dy 

with him. £ditor*s MS. 

^ t. 0. for this cause ; though 1 were to die for having loved you. 



42 THE NOT-BROWNS MATD. 

HE, 

A barons chylde to be begylde ! 265 

It were a cursed dede ; 
To be felawe with an outlawe ! 

Almighty God forbede ! 
Yet beter were, the pore squy^re 

Alone to forest yede, 270 

Than ye sholde say another day, ^ 

That, by my cursed dede, 
Ye were betray'd : Wherfore, good mayd, 

The best rede that I can. 
Is, that I to the grene wode go, 275 

Alone, a banyshed man. 

SHE. 

Whatever befall, I never shall 

Of this thyng you upbrayd ; 
But y f ye go, and leve me so. 

Than have ye me betrayd. 280 

Remember you wele, howe that ye dele ; 

For, yf ye, as ye sayd, 
Be so unkynde, to leve behynde. 

Your love, the Not-browne Mayd, 
Trust me truly, that I shall dy 285 

Sone after ye be gone ; 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 

I love but you alone. 

V. 278, outbrayd. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 282, ye be u. 

Prol. and Mr. W. V. 283, Ye were unkynde to leve me behynde. 
Prol. and Mr. W. 



I 

I 



;rHE NOT-BROWNE HAYD* 43 

HE. 

Yf that ye went, ye sholde repent ; 

For in the forest nowe 290 

I have purvayed me of a mayd, 

IVhom I love more than you ; 
Another &yr^re, than ever ye were, 

I dare it wele avowe ; 
And of you bothe eche sholde be wrothe 295 

With other, as I trowe : 
It were myne ese, to lyve in pese ; 

So wyll I, yf I can ; 
Wherfore I to the wode wyll go, 

Alone, a banyshed man, 300 

SHE. 

Though in the wode I undyrstode ,. 

Ye had a paramour, 
All this may nought remove my thought, 

But that I wyll be your : 
And she shall fynde me soft, and kynde, 305 

And courteys every hour ; 
Glad to fulfyll all that she wyll 

Cominaunde me to my power : 
For had ye, lo, an hundred mo, 

' Of them I wolde be one ;' 310 

For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 

I love but you alone. 

T. 310, So the Editor*s MS. All the printed copies read, 
Yet wold I be that one. 



44 THE NOT-BROWNE MATD. 

HE. 

Myne own dere love, I se the prove 

That ye be kynde, and true ; 
Of mayde, and wyfe, in all my lyfe, 315 

The best that ever I knewe. 
Be mery and glad, be no more sad, 

The case is chaunged newe ; 
For it were ruthe, that, for your truthe, 

Ye sholde have cause to rewe. 320 

Be nat dismayed ; whatsoever I sayd 

To you, whan I began ; 
I wyll nat to the grene wode go, 

I am no banyshed man« 

SHE. 

These tydings be more gladd to me, 325 

Than to be made a queue, 
Yf I were sure they sholde endure : 

But it is often sene. 
Whan men wyll breke promyse, they speke 

The wordes on the splene. 330 

Ye shape some wyle me to begyle, 

And stele from me, I wene : 
Than were the case worse than it was. 

And I more wo-begone : 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 335 

I love but you alone. 

V. 3J6, of all. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 325, gladder. Prol. 

and Mr. W. 



THE NOT-BROWNB MAYD. 45 

HE. 

Ye shall nat nede further to drede ; 

I wyll nat dysparage 
Youy (God defend !) syth ye descend 

Of so grete a lynage. 340 

Now undyrstande ; to Westmarlande, 

Which is myne herytage, 
I wyll you brynge ; and with a rynge, 

By way of maryage 
I wyll you take, and lady make, 345 

As shortely as I can : 
Thus have you won an erlys son, 

And not a banyshed man. 

AUTHOR. 

Here may ye se, that women be 

In love, meke, kynde, and stable : 350 

Late never man reprove them than, 

Or call them variable ; 
But, rather, pray God, that we may 

To them be comfortable ; 
Which sometyme proveth such, as he loveth, 355 

Yf they be charytable. 
For syth men wolde that women sholde 

Be meke to them each one ; 
Moche more ought they to God obey. 

And serve but hym alone. 360 

V. 340, grete lynyage. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 347, Then have. 
Prol. V. 348, And no banyshed. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 352, This 
line wanting in Prol. and Mr. W. V. 355, proved — Gloved. Prol. and 
Mr. W. lb. aB loveth. Camb. V. 357, Forsoth. Prol. and Mr. W. 



46 BALET BY EARL RIVERS. 



VII. 

The amiable light in which the character of Anthony 
Widville, the gallant Earl Rivers, has been placed by the 
elegant author of the Catalogue of Noble Writers, interests 
us in whatever fell from his pen. It is presumed, there- 
fore, that the insertion of this little sonnet will be par- 
doned, though it should not be found to have much 
poetical merit. It is the only original poem known of 
that nobleman's ; his more voluminous works being only 
translations. And if we consider that it was written during 
his cruel confinement in Pomfret Castle, a short time 
before his execution in 1488, it gives us a fine picture of 
the composure and steadiness with which this stout earl 
beheld his approaching fate. 

This ballad we owe to Rouse, a contemporary historian, 
who seems to have copied it from the earl's own hand- 
writing. In tempore, says this writer, mcarcerationis apud 
Ponteni'fractum edidit unum Balet in anglicis, ut miki 
monstratum est, quod suhsequitur sub his verbis : $um tDJ^At 
mussng, &c. Rossi Hist, 8vo. 2d edit. p. 213. In Rouse 
the second stanza, &c. is imperfect, but the defects are 
here supplied from a more perfect copy, printed in 
** Ancient Songs, from the Time of K. Henry III. to the 
Revolution," p. 87. 

Th'is little piece, which perhaps ought rather to have 
been printed in stanzas of eight short lines, is written in 
imitation of a poem of Chaucer's, that will be found in 
Urry's edit. 1721, p. 555, beginning thus : 



(( 



Alone walkyng, In thought plainyng, 
And sore sighyng, All desolate. 

My remembrying Of my lyving 
My death wishyng Both erly and late. 



BALET BT EARL RIVERS. 47 

'* Infortunate Is so my fate 

That "wote ye what. Out of mesure 
My life I hate ; Thus desperate 
In such pore estate, Doe I endure,** &c. 



SuMWHAT musyng, And more mornyng, 

In remembring The unstydfastnes ; 
This world being Of such whelyng, 

Me contrarieng, What may I gesse ? 

I fere dowtles, Remediles, 5 

Is now te sese My wofull chaunce. 
[For unkyndness, Withouten less, 

And no redress, Me doth avaunce, 

With displesaunce, To my grevaunce, 

And no suraunce Of remedy.] 10 

Lo in this traunce, Now in ^ubstaunce, 

Such is my dawnce, Wyllyng to dye. 

Me thynkys truly, Bownd3m am I, 

And that gretly, To be content : 
Seyng playnly, Fortune doth wry 15 

All contrary From myn entent. 

My lyff was lent Me to on intent, 
Hytt is ny spent. Welcome fortune ! 

But I ne went Thus to be shent, 

But sho hit ment ; such is hur won. 20 

Yer. 15, That fortune. Rossi Hist. V. 19, went, t. e. weened. 



48 'cupid's assault. 



VIII. 

The reader will think that infant Poetry grew apace be- 
tween the times of Rivers and Vaux, though nearly con- 
temporaries ; if the following song is the composition of 
that Sir Nicholas (afterwards Lord) Vauz, who was the 
shining ornament of the court of Henry YIL, and died in 
the year 1523. 

And yet to this lord it is attributed by Puttenham, in 
his Art ofEng, Poesie, 1589, 4to., a writer A>mmonly well 
informed : take the passage at large. ** In this figure 
[Counterfait Action] the Lord Nicholas Vauz, a noble 
gentleman and much delighted in vulgar making, and a 
man otherwise of no great learning, but having herein a 
marvelous facilitie, made a dittie representing the Bat- 
tayle and Assault of Cupide, so excellently well, as for 
the gallant and propre application of his fiction in eYery 
part, I cannot choose but set downe the greatest part of 
his ditty, for in truth it cannot be amended, ' When 
Cupid scaled,* &c." p. 200. For a farther account of 
Nicholas Lord Vaux, see Mr. Walpole's Noble Authors, 
vol. i. 

The following copy is printed from the first edit, of 
Surrey's Poems, 1557, 4to. See another song of Lord 
Vaux*s in the preceding volume, book ii. no. 2. 



When Cupide scaled first the fort, 
Wherein my hart lay wounded sore ; 

The batry was of such a sort, 

That I must yelde or die therfore. 



cupid's assault. 49 

There sawe I Love upon the wall, 5 

How he his banner did display : 
Alarme, alarme, he gan to call : 

And bad his souldiours kepe aray. 

The armes, the which that Cupide bare, 

Were pearced hartes with teares besprent, 10 

In silver and sable to declare 

The stedfast love, he alwayes ment. 

There might you se his band all drest 

' In colours like to white and blacke, # 
With powder and with pelletes prest 15 

To bring the fort to spoile and sacke. 

Good-wyll, the maister of the shot, 
Stode in the rampire brave and proude, 

For spence of pouder he spared not 

Assault ! assault ! to crye aloude. 20 

There might you heare the cannons rore ; 

Eche pece discharged a lover's loke ; 
Which had the power to rent, and tore 

In any place whereas they toke. 

And even with the trumpettes sowne; 25 

The scaling ladders were up set, 
And Beautie walked up and downe, 

With bow in hand, and arrowes whet. 

VOL. II. E 



50 cupid's assault. 

Then first Desire began to scale, 

And shrouded him under ' his * targe : 30 

As one the worthiest of them all. 

And aptest for to geve the charge. 

Then pushed souldiers with their pikes, 
And halberdes with handy strokes ; 

The argabushe in fleshe it b'ghtes, 35 

And duns the ayre with misty smokes. 

And, as it is the souldiers use 

When shot and powder gins to want, 

I hanged up my flagge of truce, 
And pleaded up for my lives grant. 40 

When Fansy thus had made her breche, 

And Beauty entred with her band, 
With bagge and baggage, sely wretch, 

I yelded into Beauties hand. 

Then Beautie bad to blow retrete, 45 

And every souldier to retire, 
And mercy wyll'd with spede to fet 

Me captive bound as prisoner. 

Madame,' quoth I, sith that this day 

Hath served you at all assay es, 50 

Ver. 30, her. ed. 1557 : bo ed. 1585. 



cupid's assault. 51 

I yeld to you without delay 
Here of tlie fortresse all the kayes. 

And sith that I have ben the marke, 
At whom you shot at with your eye ; 

Nedes must you with your handy warke, 55 

Or salve my sore, or let me die. 

%* Since the foregoing^ song was first printed off, rea- 
sons have occurred, which incline me to believe that Lord 
Yaux, the poet, was not the Lord Nicholas Vauz who 
died in 1523, but rather a successor of his in the title. 
For, in the first place, it is remarkable that all the old 
writers mention Lord Vaux, the poet, as contemporary 
or rather posterior to Sir Thomas Wyat and the Earl of 
Surrey, neither of which made any figure till long after 
the death of the first Lord Nicholas Vaux. Thus Putten- 
ham, in bis Art of English Poesie, 1589, in p. 48, having 
named Skelton, adds, " In the latter end of the same 
kings raigne, [Henry VI XL] sprong up a new company of 
courtly Makers, [poets,] of whom Sir Thomas Wyat th 
elder, and Henry Earl of Surrey, were the two cfaief- 
taines, who having travailed into Italic, and there tasted 
the sweet and stately measures and stile of the Italian 
poesie . . . greatly polished our rude and homely manner 

of vulgar poesie In the same time, or not long after, 

was the Lord Nicholas Vaux, a man of much facilitie in 
vulgar makings ^,** — Webbe, in his Discourse of English 
Poetrie, 1586, ranges them in the following order, — " The 
Earl of Surrey, the Lord Vaux, Norton, Bristow." And 
Gascoigne, in the place quoted in the first volume of this 
work, [b. ii. no, 2,] mentions Lord Vaux after Surrey .^- 
Again, the style and measure of Lord Vaux's pieces seem 

^ t. e. Compositions in English. 
£ 2 



52 CVPID*S ASSAULT. 

too refined and polished for the age of Henry YII., and 
rather resemble the smoothness and harmony of Surrey 
and Wyat, than the rude metre of Skelton and Hawes : 
but what puts the matter out of all doubt, in the British 
Museum is a copy of his poem, / loihe that I did love [vid. 
vol. i. ubi supra,] with this title, "A dyttye or sonet 
made by the Lord Vans, in the time of the noble Quene 
Marye, representing the image of Death." Harl. MSS. 
No. 1703, 5 25. 

It is evident, then, that Lord Vaux the poet was not 
he that flourished in the reign of Henry VI L, but either 
his son, or grandson : and yet, according to Dugdale's 
Baronage, the former was named Thomas, and the latter 
William : but this difficulty is not great, for none of the 
old writers mention the Christian name of the poetic 
Lord Vaux ^, except Puttenham ; and it is more likely 
that he might be mistaken in that lord's name^ than in 
the time in which he lived, who was so nearly his con- 
temporary, 

Thomas Lord Vaux, of Harrowden in Northampton- 
shire, was summoned to parliament in 1581. When he 
died does not appear ; but he probably lived till the latter 
end of Queen Mary*s reign, since his son 

William was not summoned to parliament till the last 
year of that reign, in 1558. This lord died in 1595. See 
Dugdale, vol. ii. p. 804. — Upon the whole, I am inclined 
to believe that Lord Thomas was the poet. 

' In the Paradise of Dainty Devises^ 1S96, he is called simplj 
** Lord Vaux the elder." 



SIR AIDING AR. 53 



IX. 

This old iabulous legend is g^yen from the Editor^s 
folio MS. with conjectural emendations, and the insertion 
of some additional stanzas to supply and complete the 
story. 

It has been suggested to the Editor, that the author of 
thb poem seems to have had in his eye the story of Gun- 
hilda, who is sometimes called Eleanor, and was married 
to the Emperor (here called King) Henry. 

Our king he kept a false stewarde, 

Sir Aldingar they him call ; 
A falser steward than he was one, 

Servde not in bower nor hall. 

He wolde have layne by our comelye queene, 5 

Her deere worshippe to betraye : 
Our queene she was a good woman, 

And evermore said him naye. 

Sir Aldingar was wrothe in his mind, 

With her hee was never content, 10 

Till traiterous meanes he colde devyse. 
In a fyer to have her brent. 

There came a lazar to the kings gate, 
A lazar both blinde and lame : 



54 SIR ALDINGAR. 

He tooke the lazar upon his backe, 15 

Him on the queenes bed has layne. 

" Lye still, lazar, wheras thou lyest, 

Looke thou goe not hence away ; 
He make thee a whole mart and a sound 

In two bowers of the day '." 20 

Then went him forth sir Aldingar, 

And hyed him to our king : 
'* If I might have grace, as I have space, 

Sad tydings I could bring." 

Say on, say on, sir Aldingar, 25 

Saye on the soothe to mee. 
" Our queene hath chosen a new new love. 

And shee will have none of thee. 

If shee had chosen a right good knight. 

The lesse had beene her shame ; 30 

But she hath chose her a lazar man, 
A lazar both blinde and lame." 

If this be true, thou Aldingar, 

The tyding thou tellest to me. 
Then will I make thee a rich rich knight, 35 

Rich both of golde and fee. 

^ He probably insinuates that the king should heal him by his 
power of touching for the Eing*B Evil. 



SIR ALDTNGAR. 55 

But if it be false, sir Aldingar, 

As God nowe grant it bee ! 
Thy body, I sweare by the holye rood, 

Shall hang on the gallows tree. 40 

He brought our king to the queenes chamber, 

And opend to him the dore. 
A lodlye love, king Harry says, 

For our queene dame Elinore ! 

If thou were a man, as thou art none, 45 

Here on my sword thoust dye ; 
But a payre of new gallowes shall be built. 

And there shalt thou hang on hye. 

Forth then hyed our king, I wysse. 

And an angry man was hee ; 50 

And soone he found queene Elinore, 

That bride so bright of blee. 

Now God you save, our queene, madame. 

And Christ you save and see ; 
Here you have chosen a newe newe love, 55 

And you will have none of mee. 

If you had chosen a right good knight, 

The lesse had been your shame : 
But you have chose you a lazar man, 

A lazar both blinde and lame. 60 



56 SIR ALBINGAR. 

Therfore a fyer there shall be built, 

And brent all shalt thou bee. — 
" Now out alacke ! said our comly queene, 

Sir Aldingar*s false to mee. 

Now out alacke ! sayd our comlye queene, 65 

My heart with griefe will brast. 
I had thought swevens had never been true ; 

I have proved them true at last. 

I dreamt in my sweven on thursday eve, 

I my bed wheras I laye, 70 

I dreamt a grype and a grimlie beast 
Had carryed my crowne awaye ; 

My gorgett and my kirtle of golde, 

And all my faire head-geere : 
And he wold worrye me with his tush 75 

And to his nest y-beare : 

Saving there came a little ' gray ' hawke, 

A merlin him they call, 
Which untill the grounde did strike the grype. 

That dead' he downe did fall. 80 

Giffe I were a man, as now I am none, 
A battell wold I prove, 

Ver. 77, see below, ver. 137. 



SIR ALDIN6AR. 57 

To fight with that traitor Aldingar ; 
Att him I cast my glove. 

But seeing Ime able noe battell to make, 85 

My li^e, grant me a knight 
To fight with that traitor, sir Aldingar, 

To maintaine me in my right." 

" Now forty dayes I will give thee 

To seeke thee a knight therin : 90 

If thou find not a knight in forty dayes 

Thy bodye it must brenn." 

Then shee sent east, and shee sent west, 

By north and south bedeene : 
But never a champion colde she find, 95 

Wolde fight with that knight soe keene. 

Now twenty dayes were spent and gone, 

Noe helpe there might be had ; 
Many a teare shed our comelye queene 

And aye her hart was sad. 100 

Then came one of the queenes dams^Ues, 

And knelt upon her knee, 
" Cheare up, cheare up, my gracious dame, 

I trust yet helpe may be* 

And here I will make mine avowe, 105 

And with the same me binde ; 



58 SIR ALDINGAR, 

That never will I return to thee, 
Till 1 some helpe may finde." 

Then forth she rode on a faire palfraye 

Oer hill and dale about : 110 

But never a champion colde she finde, - 
Wolde fighte with that knight so stout. 

And nowe the daye drewe on a pace, 

When our good queene must dye ; 
All woe-begone was that faire damselle, 115 

When she found no helpe was nye. 

All woe-begone was that faire damsllle. 
And the salt teares fell from her eye : 

When lo ! as she rode by a rivers side, 

She met with a tinye boye. 120 

A tinye boy she mette, God wot. 

All clad in mantle of golde ; 
He seemed noe more in mans likenlsse. 

Then a childe of four yeere olde. 

Why grieve you, damselle faire, he sayd, 125 

And what doth cause you moane ? 
The damsell scant wolde deigne a looke, 

But fast she pricked on. 

Yet tume againe, thou faire damselle, 

And greete thy queene from mee ; 130 



-J 



SIR ALDIKOAR. 59 

When bale is att hyest, boote is nyest, 
Nowe helpe enooghe may bee. 

Bid her remember what she dreamt 

In her bedd, wheras shee laye ; 
How when the grype and the grimly beast 135 

Wolde have carried her crowne awaye* 

Even then there came the little gray hawke, 

And saved her from his clawes : 
Then bidd the queene be merry at hart, 

For heaven will fende her cause, 140 

Back then code that faire dams^Ue, 

And her hart it lept for glee : 
And when she told her gracious dame 

A gladd woman then was shee. 

But when the appointed day was come, 145 

No helpe appeared nye : 
Then woeful, woefu] was her hart, 

And the teares stood in her eye. 

And nowe a fyer was built of wood ; 

And a stake was made of tree ; 150 

And now queene Elinor forth was led, 

A sorrowful sight to see. 

Three times the herault he waved his hand, 
And three times spake on hye : 



60 SIE ALDINOAR* 

Giffany good knight will fende this damei 155 
Come forth, or shee must dye. 

No knight stood forth, no knight there came, 

No helpe appeared nye : 
And now the fyer was lighted up, 

Queen Elinor she must dye. 160 

And now the fyer was lighted up, 

As hot as hot might bee ; 
When riding upon a little white steed, 

The tinye boy they see. 

*' Away with that stake, away with those brands. 
And loose our comelye queene : 166 

I am come to fight with sir Aldingar, 
And prove him a traitor keene.*' 

Forthe then stood sir Aldingar, 

But when he saw the chylde, 170 

He laughed, and scoffed, and turned his backe, 

And weened he had been beguylde. 

** Now turne, now tume thee, Aldingar, 

And eyther fighte or flee ; 
I trust that I shall avenge the wronge, 175 

Thoughe I am so small to see." 

The boye puUd forth a well good sworde. 
So gilt it dazzled the ee ; 



SIR ALDINGAR. 6t 

The first stroke stricken at Aldingar 

Smote off his leggs by the knee. 180 

*' Stand'up, stand up, thou false traitor, 

And fight upon thy feete. 
For and thou thrive, as thou begin'st. 

Of height wee shall be meete." 

A priest, a priest, sayes Aldingar, 185 

While I am a man alive. 
A priest, a priest, sayes Aldingar, 

Me for to houzle and shrive. 

I wolde have laine by our comlie queene. 

But shee wolde never consent ; 190 

Then I thought to betraye her unto our kinge 
In a fyer to have her brent. 

There came a lazar to the kings gates, 

A lazar both blind and lame : 
I tooke the lazar upon my backe, 195 

And on her bedd had him layne. 

Then raiine I to our comlye king. 

These tidings sore to tell. 
But ever alacke ! sayes Aldingar, 

Falsing never doth well. 200 

Forgive, forgive me, queene, madame, 
The short time I must live. 



62 SIR ALDINOAB. 

" Nowe Christ forgive thee, Aldingar, 
As freely I forgive," 

« 
Here take thy queene, our king Harrye, 205 

And love her as thy life, 

For never had a king in Christentye, 

A truer and fairer wife. 

King Henrye ran to claspe his queene, 

And loosed her full sone : 210 

Then tumd to look for the tinye hoye ; 
The boye was vanisht and gone. 

But first he had touchd the lazar man, 

And stroakt him with his hand : 
The lazar under the gallowes tree 215 

All whole and sounde did stand. 

The lazar under the gallowes tree 
Was comelye, straight and tall ; 
King Henrye made him his head stewarde 

To wayte withinn his hall. 220 

« « 



THE OABERLUNZIE MAN. 63 



X. 

C&e (&tAttlnn\it ittati* 

A SCOTTISH SONG. 

Tradition informs us that the author of this song was 
King James V. of Scotland. This prince (whose charac- 
ter for wit and libertinbm bears a great resemblance to 
that of his gay successor Charles 11.) was noted for stroll- 
ing about his dominions in disguise ^ and for his frequent 
gallantries with country girls. Two adventures of thb 
kind be hath celebrated with his own pen, viz. in this 
ballad of The Gaberlunzie Man ; and in another entitled 
The Jolfy Beggar, beginning thus : 

Thair was a jollie beggar, and a hegging he was boun, 
And he tuik up his quarters into a land*art toun. 

Fa, la, la, &c. 

It seems to be the latter of these ballads (which was too 
licentious to be admitted into this collection) that is meant 
in the Catalogtte of Roi/al and Noble Authort ^, where 
the ingenious writer remarks, that there is something 
very ludicrous in the young woman's distress when she 
thought her first favour had been thrown away upon a 
beggar. 

Bishop Tanner has attributed to James V. the cele- 
brated ballad of Chm€t Kirk on the Green, which is as- 
cribed to King James I. in Bannatyne's MS., written in 
1568. And notwithstanding that authority, the Editor of 
this book is of opinion that Bishop Tanner was right. 

King James V. died Dec. 13th, 1542, aged 83. 

^ Sc. of a tinker, beggar, &c. Thus he used to visit a smithes 
daughter at Niddry, near Edinburgh, 
a Vol. ii. p. 203. 



64 THE 6ABERLUKZIE MAN. 

The pauky auld Carle came ovir the lee i 
Wi' mony goodreens and days to mee, 
Saying, Goodwife, for zour courtesie, 

Will ze lodge a silly poor man ? 
The night was cauld, the carle was' wat, 5 

And down azont the ingle he sat ; 
My dochters shoulders he gan to clap, 

And cadgily ranted and sang. 

O wow ! quo he, were I as free, 

As first when I saw this countrie, 10 

How blyth and merry wad I bee ! 

And I wad nevir think lang. 
He grew canty, and she grew fain ; 
But little did her auld minny ken 
What thir slee twa togither were say'n, 15 

When wooing they were sa thrang. 

And O ! quo he, ann ze were as black, 
As evir the crown of youY dadyes hat, 
Tis I wad lay thee by my back. 

And awa wi' me thou sould gang. 20 

And O ! quoth she^ ann I were as white, 
As evir the snaw lay on the dike, 
lid dead me braw, and lady-like, 

And awa with thee lid gang. 

Between the twa was made a plot ; 25 

They raise a wee before the cock. 



I 
THE GABERLUNZIE MAN. 65 

And wyliely they shot the lock, 

And fast to the hent are they gane. 
Up the morn the auld wife raise, 
And at her leisure put on her claiths, 30 

Syne to the servants bed she gaes 

To speir for the silly poor man. 

She gaed to the bed, whair the beggar lay, 

The strae was cauld, he was away. 

She clapt her hands, cryd, Dulefu' day ! 35 

For some of our geir will be gane. 
Some ran to coffer, and some to kist, 
But nought was stown that could be mist. 
She dancid her lane, cryd. Praise be blest, 

I have lodgd a leal poor man. 40 

Since naithings awa, as we can learn. 

The kirns to kirn, and milk to earn, 

Gae butt the house, lass, and waken my bairn, " 

And bid her come quickly ben. 
The servant gaed where the dochter lay, 45 

The sheets was cauld, she was away. 
And fast to her goodwife can say, 

Shes aff with the gaberlunzie man. 

O fy gar ride, and fy gar rin. 

And hast ze, find these traitors agen ; 50 

Ver. 29, the carline, other copies. 
VOL. II. F 



66 THE OABERLUNZIE MAN. 

For shees be burnt, and hees be slein, 

The wearyfou gaberlunzie man. 
Some rade upo horse, some ran a fit. 
The wife was wood, and out o' her wit ; 
She could na gang, nor yet could she sit, 55 

But ay did curse and did ban. 

Mean time far hind out owre the lee, 
For snug in a glen, where nane could see, 
The twa, with kindlie 4sport and glee, 

Cut frae a new cheese a whang. ^ 60 

The priving was gude, it pleas'd them baith, 
To lo'e her for ay, he gae her his aith. 
Quo she, to leave thee, I will be laith, 

My winsome gaberlunzie man. 

O kend my minny I were wi' zou, 65 

Illfardly wad she crook her mou, 
Sic a poor man sheld nevir trow, 

Aftir the gaberlunzie mon. 
My dear, quo he, zee're zet owre zonge ; 
And hae na learnt the beggars tonge, 70 

To follow me frae toun to toun, 

And carrie the gaberlunzie on. 

Wi' kauk and keel, 111 win zour bread. 
And spindles and whorles for them wha need, 
Whilk is a gentil trade indeed 75 

The gaberlunzie to carrie — o. 



ON THOMAS LORD CROMWELL. 67 

111 bow ray leg and crook my knee, 
And draw a black clout owre my ee, 
A criple or blind they will cau me : 

While we sail sing and be merrie — o. 80 



XI. 



0n C|^otnai$ Hottr Ctomloen. 

It is ever the fate of a disgraced minister to be forsaken 
by his friends, and insulted by his enemies, always reck- 
oning among the latter the giddy, inconstant multitude. 
We have here a spurn at ikllen greatness from some angry 
partisan of declining Popery, who could never forgive the 
downfall of their Diana, and loss of their craft. The bal- 
lad seems to have been composed between the time of 
Cromwell's commitment to the Tower, June 1 1, 1540, and 
that of his being beheaded, July 28, following. A short 
interval ! but Henry's passion for Catherine Howard would 
admit of no delay. Notwithstanding our libeller, Crom- 
well had many excellent qualities : his great fault was too 
much obsequiousness to the arbitrary will of his master ; 
but let it be considered that this master had raised him 
from obscurity, and that the high-born nobility had shown 
him the way in every kind of mean and servile compliance. 
The original copy, printed at London in 1540, is entitled 
•*A newe ballade made of. Thomas Crumwel, called 
TroUe on Away!* To it is prefixed this distich by way 
of burthen, 

TroUe on away, trolle on awaye. 

Syoge heave and bowe rombelowe trolle on away. 

F 2 



68 ON THOMAS LOED CROMWELL. 

Both man and chylde is glad to here tell 
Of that false traytoure Thomas Crumwell, 
Now that he is set to learn to spell. 

Synge trolle on away. 

When fortune lokyd the in thy face, 
Thou haddyst fayre tyme, but thou lackydyst grace ; 
Thy cofers with golde thou fyllydst a pace. 6 

Synge, &c. 

Both plate and chalys came to thy fyst. 
Thou lockydst them vp where no man wyst, 
Tyll in the kynges treasoure sucheH;hinges were myst. 

Synge, &c. 

Both crust and crumme came thorowe thy handes, 10 
Thy marchaundyse sayled over the sandes, 
Therfore nowe thou art layde fast in bandes. 

Synge, &c. 

Fyrste when kynge Henry, God saue his grace ! 
Perceyud myschefe kyndlyd in thy face. 
Then it was tyme to purchase the a place. 15 

Synge, 8&c, 

Hys grace was euer of gentyll nature, 
Mouyd with petye, and made the hys seruyture : 
But thou, as a wretche, suche thinges dyd procure. 

Synge, &c. 



ON THOMAS LORD CROMWELC* 69 

j 

Thou dyd not remembre, false heretykci 

One God, one fayth, and one kynge catholyke, 20 

For thou hast bene so long a scysmatyke* 

Synge, &c. 

Thou woldyst not leame to knowe these thre ; 
But euer was full of iniquite : 
Wherfore all this lande bathe ben troubled with the. 

Synge, &c. 

All they, that were of the new trycke, 25 

Agaynst the churche thou baddest them stycke ; 
Wherfore nowe thou hast touchyd the quycke. 

Synge, &c. 

Both sacramentes and sacramentalles 
Thou woldyst not sufFre within thy walles ; 
Nor let vs praye for all chrysten soules. 30 

Synge, &c. 

Of what generacyon thou were no tonge can tell, 
Whyther of Chayme, or Syschemell, 
Or else sent vs frome the deny 11 of hell. 

Synge, &c. 

Thou woldest neuer to vertue applye, 
But couetyd euer to clymme to bye, 35 

And nowe haste thou trodden thy shoo awrye. 

Synge, &c. 

Ver. 32, i. e, Cain, or IshmMl. See below, tlie note, book ii. 
no. iii. stanza 3d. 



J 



70 ON THOMAS LORD CROMWELL* 

Who-so-euer dyd winne thou wolde not lose ; 
Wherfore all Englande doth hate the, as I suppose, 
Bycause thou wast false to the redolent rose. 

Synge, &c. 

Thou niyghtest have learned thy cloth to flocke 40 
Upon thy gresy fullers stocke ; 
Wherfore lay downe thy heade vpon this blocke. 

Synge, &c. 

Yet saue that soule, that God hath bought, 
And for thy carcas care thou nought, 
Let it suffre payne, as it hath wrought. 45 

Synge, &c. 

God saue kyng Henry with all his power, 
And prynce Edwarde that goodly flower. 
With al hys lordes of great honoure. 

Synge troUe on awaye, syng trolle on away. 

Hevye and how rombelowe trolle on awaye. 

y. 41, Cromweirs father is generally said to haye been a black- 
smith at Putney: but the author of this ballad would insinuate 
that either he himself, or some of his ancestors, were fullers by 
trade. 



*«* The foregoing piece gave rise to a poetic con- 
troversy, which was carried on through a succession of 
seven or eight ballads, written for and against Lord 
Cromwell. These are all preserved in the archives of 
the Antiquarian Society, in a large folio Collection of 
Proclamations, &c., made in the reigns of King Henry 
VIIL, King Edward VI., Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth, 
King James I., &c. 



HARPALUS. 71 



XII, 

AN ANCIENT ENGLISH PABTORAL. 

This beautiful poem, which is perhaps the first attempt 
at pastoral writing in our language, is preserved among 
the '' Songs and Sonnettes " of the Earl of Surrey, &c, 4to. 
in that part of the collection which consists of pieces by 
*' uncertain Auctours." These poems were first published 
in 1557, ten years after that accomplished nobleman fell a 
victim to the tyranny of Henry VIII. : but it is presumed 
most of them were composed before the death of Sir 
Thomas Wyat, in 1541. See Surrey's Poems, 4to. folios 
19, 49. 

Though written perhaps near half a century before the 
Shepherd's Calendar ^, this will be found far superior to 
any of those Eclogues, in natural unaffected sentiments, 
in simplicity of style, in easy flow of versification, and all 
other beauties of p&storal poetry. Spenser ought to have 
profited more by so excellent a model. 

Phylida was a faire mayde, 

As fresh as any flowre ; 
Whom Harpalus the herdman prayde 

To be his paramour. 

Harpalus, and eke Corin, 5 

Were herdmen both yfere : 

1 Pint published in 1579. 



72 HARFALUS. 

And Phylida could twist and spinne, 
And thereto sing full clere. 

But Phylida was all to coye, 

For Harpalus to winne : 10 

For Corin was her onely joye, 

Who forst her not a pinne. 

How often would she flowers twine ? 

How often garlandes make 
Of couslips and of colombine ? 15 

And al for Corin's sake. 

But Corin, he had haukes to lure, 

And forced more the field : 
Of lovers lawe he toke no cure ; 

For once he was begilde. 20 

Harpalus prevailed nought, 

His labour all was lost : 
For he was fardest from her thought, 

And yet he loved her most. 

Therefore waxt he both pale and leane, 25 

And drye as clot of clay : 
His fleshe it was consumed cleane ; 

His colour gone away. 

His beard it had not long be shave ; 
His heare hong all unkempt ; 30 



HARPALU8. 73 

A man most fit even for the grave. 
Whom spitefull love had spent. 

His eyes were red, and all * forewacht ; ' 

His face besprent with teares : 
It semde unhap had him long * hatcht/ 35 

In mids of his dispaires. 

His clothes were blacke, and also bare ; 

'As one forlorne was he ; 
Upon his head alwayes he ware 

A wreadi of wyllow tree. 40 

His beastes he kept upon the hyll, 

And he sate in the dale ; 
And thus with sighes and sorrowes shril, 

He gan to tell his tale. 

Oh Harpalus ! (thus would he say) 45 

Unhappiest under sunne ! 
The cause of thine unhappy day, 

By love was first begunne. 

For thou wentest first by sute to seeke 
A tigre to make tame, 50 

That settes not by thy love a leeke ; 
But makes thy griefe her game. 

Ver. 33, &c. The corrections are from ed. 1574. 



74 HARPALU$. 

As easy it were for to convert 

The frost into * a ' flame ; 
As for to tume a frowarde hert, 55 

Whom thou so faine wouldst frame. 

Corin he liveth carelesse : 

He leapes among the leaves : 
He eats the frutes of thy redresse : 

Thou * reapst/ he takes the sheaves. 60 

My heastes, a whyle your foode refraine, 
And harke your herdmans sounde : 

Whom spiteful! love, alas ! hath slaine, 
Through-girt with many a wounde. 

happy be ye, beastes wilde, 65 
That here your pasture takes : 

1 se that ye be not begilde 

Of these your faithful! makes. 

The hart he feedeth by the hinde : 

The bucke harde by the do : 70 

The turtle dove is not unkinde 

To him that loves her so. 

The ewe she hath by her the ramme : 

The young cow hath the bull : 
The calfe with many a lusty lambe 75 

Do fede their hunger full. 



HAEPALUS. 75 

But, wel-away ! that nature wrought 

The, Phylida, so faire : 
For I may say that I have bought 

Thy beauty all to deare. 80 

What reason is that crueltie 

With beautie should have part ? 
Or els that such great tyranny 

Should dwell in womans hart ? 

I see therefore to shape my death 85 

She cruelly is prest ; 
To th' ende that I may want my breath : 

My dayes been at the best. 

O Cupide, graunt this my request. 

And do not stoppe thine eares, 90 

That she may feele within her brest 

The paines of my dispaires : 

Of Corin, ' who ' is carelesse, 

That she may crave her fee : 
As I have done in great distresse, 95 

That loved her faithfully. 

But since that I shal die her slave ; 

Her slave, and eke her thrall : 
Write you, my frendes, upon my grave 

This chaunce that is befall* 100 



76 ROBIN AND MAKYKE. 

**Here lieth unhappy Harpalus 
By cruell love now slaine : 

Whom Phylida unjustly thus 
Hath murdred with disdaine." 



xiir. • ' 'O 

•» 

AN ANCIENT SCOTTISH PASTORAL. 

The palm of pastoral poesy is here contested by a con- 
temporary writer with the author of the foregoing". The 
critics will judge of their respective merits ; but must 
make some allowance for the preceding ballad, which is 
given simply as it stands in the old editions : whereas this 
which follows has been revised and amended throughout 
by Allan Ramsay, from whose Ever-Green, vol. i., it is 
here chiefly printed. The curious reader may however 
compare it with the more original copy, printed among 
" Ancient Scottish Poems, from the MS. of George Banna- 
tyne, 1368, Edinb. 1770, ISmo." Mr. Robert Henryson 
(to whom we are indebted for this poem) appears to so 
much, advantage among the writers of eclogue, that we 
are sorry we can give little other account of him besides 
what is contained in the following eloge, written by W. 
Dunbar, a Scottbh poet, who lived about the middle of 
the 16th century : 

'* In DumferliDg, he [Death] hath tane Broun, 
With gude Mr. Robert Henryson.** 

Indeed, some little further insight, into the history of 
the Scottish bard is gained from the title preflzed to 



EOfilN AND MAKTNE. 77 

some of bis poems preserved in the British Museum ; yiz. 
" The morall Fabillis of Esop compylit be Maister Robert 
Henrisoun, scolmabter of Dumfermling, 1571.'* Harleian 
MSS. 3865, $ 1. 

In Ramsay's Ever-Green, vol. i., whence the above dis- 
tich is extracted, are preserved two other little Doric 
pieces by Henryson ; the one entitled The Lyon and the 
Afouse; the other, IVie garment of gude Ladyii, Some 
other of his poems may be seen in the " Ancient Scottish 
Poems, printed from Bannatyne's MS." above referred to. 



Robin sat on the gude grene hill, 

Keipand a flock of fie, 
Quhen mirry Makyne said him till, 

" O Robin rew on me : 
I haif thee luivt baith loud and still, 5 

Thir towmonds twa or thre ; 
My dule in dem bot giff thou dill, 

Doubtless but dreid 111 die." 

Robin replied. Now by the rude, 

Naithing of luve I knaw, . 10 

But keip my sheip undir yon wod :" 

Lo quhair they raik on raw. 
Quhat can have mart thee in thy mude, 

Thou Makyne to me schaw ; 
Or quhat is luve, or to be lude ? 15 

Fain wald I leir that law. 



1 



7B ROBIN AND MAKTNE. 

"The law of luve gin thou wald leir, 

Tak thair an A, B, C ; 
Be heynd, courtas, and fair of feir, 

Wyse, hardy, kind and frie, 20 

Sae that nae danger do the deir, 

Quhat dule in dem thou drie ; 
Press ay to pleis, and blyth appeir, 

Be patient and privie." 

Robin, he answert her againe, 25 

I wat not quhat is luve ; 
But I haif marvel in certaine 

Quhat makes thee thus wanrufe. 
The wedder is fair, and I am fain ; 

My sheep gais hail abuve ; 30 

And sould we pley us on the plain, 

They wald us baith repruve. 

" Robin, tak tent unto my tale. 

And wirk all as I reid ; 
And thou sail haif my heart all hale, 35 

£ik and my maiden-heid : 
Sen God, he sendis bute for bale, 

And for muming remeid, 
I'dem with thee bot gif I dale, 

Doubtless I am but deid." 40 

Yer. 19, Bannatyne^B MS. reads as above, heyndj not heynd, as in 
the Edinb. edit. 1770. V. 21. So that no danger. Ban- 

natyne's MS. 



ROBIN AND MAKYNE. 79 

Makyne, to-mom be this ilk tyde, 

Gif ye will raeit me heir, 
Maybe my sheip may gang besyde, 

Quhyle we have liggd full neir ; 
But maugre haif I, gif I byde, 45 

Frae thay begin to steir, 
Quhat lyes on heart I will nocht hyd, 

Then Makyne mak gude cheir. 

** Robin, thou reivs me of my rest; 

I luve bot thee alane." 50 

Makyne, adieu ! the sun goes west, 

The day is neir-hand gane. 
*' Robin, in dule I am so drest. 

That luve will be my bane.'' 
Makyn, gae luv quhair-eir ye list, 55 

For leman I luid nane. 

" Robin, I stand in sic a style, 

I sich and that full sair." 
Makyne, I have bene here this quyle ; 

At hame I wish I ware. 60 

'* Robin, my hinny, talk and smyle, 

Gif thou will do nae mair." 
Makyne, som other man beguyle. 

For hame ward I will fare. 

Syne Robin on his ways he went, 65 

As light as leif on tree ; 



80 EOBIN AND HAKTNS. 

But Makyne mumt and made lament, 

Scho trow'd him neir to see. 
Robin he brayd attowre the bent : 

Then Makyne cried on hie, 70 

** Now may thou sing, for I am shent ! 

Quhat allis luve at me ? " 

Makyne went hame withouten fail, 

And weirylie could weip ; 
Then Robin in a full fair dale 75 

Assemblit all his sheip. 
Be that some part of Makyne's ail, 

Out-throw his heart could creip ; 
Hir fast he foUowt to assail, 

And till her tuke gude keip. 80 

Abyd, abyd, thou fair Makyne, 

A word for ony thing ; 
For all my luve, it sail be thyne, 

Withouten departing. 
All hale thy heart for till have myne, 85 

Is all my coveting ; 
My sheip to mom quhyle houris nyne. 

Will need of nae keiping. 

*' Robin, thou hast heard sung and say. 

In gests and storys auld 90 

The man that will not when he may, 
Sail have nocht when he wald. 



ROBIN AMD MAKYKE. 81 

I pray to heaven baith nicht and day, 

Be eiked their cares sae cauld, 
That presses first with thee to play 95 

Be Forrest, firth, or fauld." 

Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry, 

The wether warm and fair. 
And the grene wod richt neir-hand by. 

To walk attowre all where : 100 

There may nae j anglers us espy, 

That is in luve contrair ; 
Therin, Makyne, baith you and I 

Unseen may mak repair. 

"Robin, that warld is now away, 105 

And quyt brocht till an end : 
And nevir again thereto, perfay. 

Sail it be as thou wend ; 
For of my pain thou made but play ; 

I words in vain did spend : 110 

As thou hast done, sae sail I say, 

Murn on, I think to mend." 

Makyne, the hope of all my heil. 

My heart on thee is set ; 
I'll evermair to thee be leil, 115 

Quhyle I may live but lett, 

y. 99 1 Bannatyne*8 MS. lias woidy not tooudy as in ed. 1770. 
VOL. IT. G 



82 GENTLE HERDSMAN, TELL TO ME. 

Never to fail as uthers feill, 

Quhat grace so eir I get. 
'* Robin, with thee I will not deill ; 

Adieu, for this we met." 120 

Makyne went hameward blyth enough, 

Outowre the holtis hair ; 
Pure Robin mumd, and Makyne leugh ; 

Scho sang, and he sicht sair : 
And so left him bayth wo and wreuch, 125 

In dolor and in care, 
Keipand his herd under a heuch, 

Amang the rushy gair. 

y. 117, Bannatyne^s MS. reads as above /eUlf not faill, as in ed. 
1770. 



XIV. 
(Ktnttt ^tvWmm^ tell to &it. 

DIALOGUE BETWEEN A PILGRIM AND HERDSMAN. 

The scene of this beautiful old ballad is laid near Wal- 
singham in Norfolk, where was anciently an image of the 
Virgin Mary, famous over all Europe for the numerous 
pilgrimages made to it, and the great riches it possessed. 
Erasmus has given a very exact and humorous descrip- 
tion of the superstitions practised there in his time. See 
his account of the Virgo Parathalassia, in his colloquy, en- 
titled, Peregrmatio Religionis Ergo, He tells us, the rich 



GENTLE HERDSMAN, TELL TO ME. 83 

offerings in silver, gold, and precious stones, that were 
there shown him, were incredible, there being scarce a 
person of any note in England but what some time or 
other pdd a visit, or sent a present, to Our Lady of Wal- 
singham ^. At the dissolution of the monasteries in 1588, 
this splendid image, with another from Ipswich, was car- 
ried to Chelsea, and there burnt in the presence of com- 
missioners, who, we trust, did not burn the jewels and 
the Hnery. 

This poem is printed from a copy in the Editor's folio 
MS., which had greatly suffered by the hand of time ; but 
vestiges of several of the lines remaining, some conjec- 
tural supplements have been attempted, which, for greater 
exactness, are in this one ballad distinguished by italics. 



Gentle heardsiiian, tell to me, 

Of curtesy I thee pray, 
Unto the towne of Walsingham 

Which is the right and ready way. 

" Unto the towne of Walsingham 5 

The way is hard for to be gon ; 
And verry crooked are those pathes 

For you to find out all alone." 

Weere the miles doubled thrise, 

And the way never soe ill, 10 

Itt were not enough for mine offence ; 

Itt is soe grievous and soe ill. 

^ See at the end of this ballad an account of the annual offerings 
of the Earls of Northumberland. 

o2 



84 GSNTLE HERDSMAN, TELL TO ME. 

" Thy yeeares are young, thy face is faire, 

Thy Witts are weake, thy thoughts are greene ; 

Time hath not given thee leave, as yett, 15 

For to committ so great a sinne." 

Yes, heardsman, yes, soe woldest thou say, 

If thou knewest soe much as I ; 
My Witts, and thoughts, and all the rest, 

Have well deserved for to dye. 20 

I am not what I seeme to bee, 

My clothes and sexe doe differ farr : 

I am a woman, woe is me ! 

Bom to greeffe and irksome care. 

For my beloved, and well-beloved, 25 

My fjoayward cruelty could hill : 
And though my teares will nought avail. 

Most dearely I bewail him still. 

He was the flower o/ noble wights. 

None ever more sincere colde bee ; 30 

Of comely mien and shape hee was. 

And tenderlye hee loved mee. 

When thus I saw he Zoved me well, 

/ grewe so proud his paine to see, 
That /, who did not know myselfe, 35 

Thought scorne of such a youth as hee. 



GENTLE HERDSMAN, TELL TO HE. 85 

'And grew soe coy and nice to please, 

As women's lookes are often soe, 
He might not kisse, nor hand forsooth, 

Unlesse I willed him soe to doe. 40 

Thus being wearyed with delayes 

To see I pittyed not his greeffe. 
He gott him to a secrett place, 

And there he dyed without releefife. 

And for his sake these weeds I weare, 45 

And sacriffice my tender age ; 

' Three of the following stauzas have been finely paraphrased 
by Dr. Goldsmith, in his charming ballad of Edwin and Angelina ; 
the reader of taste will have a pleasure in comparing them with the 
original. 

♦ And ' still I tryM each fickle art, 

Importunate and vain; 
And while his passion touchM my heart, 

I triumphM in his pain. 

*Till quite dejected with my scorn, 

He left me to my pride ; 
And sought a solitude forlorn, 

In secret, where he dy*d. 

But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, 

And well my life shall pay ; 
rU seek the solitude he sought, 

And stretch me where he lay. 

And there forlorn despairing hid, 

I'll lay me down and die : 
*Twas so for me that Edwin did. 

And so for him will L 



86 GENTLE HERDSMAN, TELL TO MS. 

And every day He begg my bread, 
To undergoe this pilgrimage. 

Thus every day I fast and pray, 

And ever will doe tjjl I dye ; 50 

And gett me to some secrett place. 

For soe did hee, and soe will I. 

Now, gentle heardsman, aske no more. 
But keepe my secretts I thee pray ; 

Unto the towne of Walsingam 55 

Show me the right and readye way. 

" Now goe thy wayes, and God before ! 

For he must ever guide thee still : 
Turne downe that dale, the right hand path. 

And soe, faire pilgrim, fare thee well ! " 60 



*^* To show what constant tribute was paid to Our 
Lady of Walsingham, I shall give a few extracts from 
the " Household-Book of Henry Algernon Percy, 5th 
Earl of Northumberland." Printed 1770, 8vo. 

Sect. XLIII. page 337, &c. 
Item, My Lorde usith yerly to send afor Michaelmas for 
his Lordschip's OfFerynge to our Lady of Walsynge- 
ham, — } i ij d. 
Item, My Lorde usith ande accustumyth to sende yerely 
for the upholdynge of the Light of Wax which his Lord- 
schip fyndithbirnynge yerly befor our Lady of Walsyng- 
ham, contenynge dej lb. of Wax in it after v ij d. ob. for 
the fyndynge of every lb. redy wrought by a covenaunt 



KINO EDWAED IT. 87 

mud with the Channon by great, for the hole yere, for 
the fyndinge of the said Lyght byrning,— o i s. v 1 1 ij d. 

Item, My Lord useth and accustomith to syende yerely 
to the Channon that kepith the Light before our Lady 
of Walsyngham, for his reward for the hole yere, for 
kepynge of the sud Light, lightynge of it at all service 
tjrmes daily thorowt the yere, — x ij d. 

Itsm, My Lord usith and accustomyth yerely to send to 
the Prest that kepith the Light, lyghtynge of it at all 
service tymes daily thorowt the yere, — iij s. iiij d. 



XV. 



IS. (iftrbattr iW. antr the Canner o( Camtoottjb 

Was a story of great fame among our ancestors. The 
author of the Ari of EngUth Poesie, 1539, 4to, seems to 
speak of it as a real fact. Describing that vicious mode 
of speech, which the Greeks called Acyron, t. e. '* When 
we use a dark and obscure word, utterly repugnant to 
that we should express ;" he adds, " Such manner of un- 
couth speech did the Tanner of Tam worth use to King 
Edward the fourth ; which Tanner, having a great while 
mistaken him, and used very broad talke with him, at 
length perceiving by his traine that it was the king, was 
afraide he should be punished for it, [and] said thus, with 
a certain rude repentance, 

* I hope I shall be hanged to-morrow,* 
for [/ feare me] I shall be hanged : whereat the king 
laughed a good \ not only to see the Tanner's vaine feare, 
but also to heare his illshapen terme : and gave him for 

1 Vide Gloss. 



88 KINO EDWIABD IV. AND 

recompence of his good sport, the inheritance of Plump- 
ton-parke. / am afraid^ concludes this sagacious writer, 
" the poets of our timet that ipeake more finely and correct* 
edly, will come too short of such a reward,^ p. 214. The 
phrase here referred to is not found in this ballad at 
present ^ but occurs with some variation in another old 
poem, entitled, John the Reeve, described in the following 
volume. (See the Preface to The King and the MUlerj) 
viz. 

** Nay, sayd John, by Gods grace 

And Edward wer in this place, 
Hee shold not touch this tonne : 

He wold be wroth witli John I hope, 

TherefFore I beshrew the soupe, 
That in his mouth shold come." Ft. ii. st. 24. 

The following text is selected (with such other correc- 
tions as occurred) from two copies in black letter. The 
one in the Bodleian library, entitled, *' A merrie, pleasant, 
and delectable historic betweene King Edward the Fourth, 
and a Tanner of Tamworth, &c., printed at London, by 
John Danter, 1596." This copy, ancient as it now is, 
appears to have been modernised and altered at the time 
it was published ; and many vestiges of the more ancient 
readings were recovered from another copy, (though more 
recently printed,) in one sheet folio, without date, in the 
Pepys collection. 

But these are both very inferior in point of antiquity to 
the old ballad of 77ie King and the Barker, reprinted with 
other" Pieces of Ancient Popular Poetry from Authentic 
Manuscripts, and old Printed Copies, edited by Ritson," 
Loud. 1791, 8vo. As that very antique poem had never 
occurred to the Editor of the ReUques, till he saw it in the 
above collection, he now refers the curious reader to it, as 
an imperfect and incorrect copy of the old original ballad. 

' Nor in that of the Barker mentioned below. 



THE TANNER OF TAMWORTH. 89 

In summer time, when leaves grow greene, 

And blossoms bedecke the tree, 
King Edward wolde a hunting ryde. 

Some pastime for to see. 

With hawke and hounde he made him bowne, ^ 

With home, and eke with bowe ; 
To Drayton Basset he tooke his waye, 

With all his lordes a rowe. 

And he had ridden ore dale and downe 

By eight of clocke in the day, 10 

When he was ware of a bold tanner, 
Come ryding along the waye. 

A fayre russet coat the tanner had on. 

Fast buttoned under his chin. 
And under him a good cow-hide, 15 

And a mare of four shilling '• 

Nowe stand you still, my good lordes all. 

Under the grene wood spraye ; 
And I will wend to yonder fellowe, 

To weet what he will saye. 20 

* Tn the reign of Edward lY., Dame Cecill, lady of Torboke, in 
her will dated March 7, A.D. 1466, among many other bequettt has 
thi«, ** Also I will that my sonne Thomas of Torboke have 13i. id, 
to buy him an horse/* Vide Harleian Catalogue, 2176. 27. Now if 
130. 4d. would purchase a steed fit for a person of quality, a tanner*s 
hone might reasonably be valued at four or fire shillings. 



90 KINO EDWARD IT. AND 

God speede, God speede thee, said our king. 

Thou art welcome, sir, sayd hee. 
" The readyest waye to Drayton Basset 

I praye thee to shewe to mee." 

" To Drayton Basset woldst thou goe, 25 

Fro the place where thou dost stand ? 

The next payre of gallowes thou comest unto, 
Turne in upon thy right hand.** 

That is an unreadye waye, sayd our king, 

Thou doest but jest I see ; 30 . 

Nowe shewe me out the nearest waye. 
And I pray thee wend with mee. 

Awaye with a vengeance ! quoth the tanner : 

I hold thee out of thy witt : 
All day have I rydden on Brocke my mare, 35 

And I am fasting yett. 

" Go with me downe to Drayton Basset, 

No daynties we will spare ; 
All daye shalt thou eate and drinke of the best. 

And I will paye thy fare." 40 

Gramercye for nothing, the tanner replyde, 

Thou payest no fare of mine : 
I trowe Fve more nobles in my purse. 

Than thou hast pence in thine. 



THE TANNER OF TAHWORTH. 91 

God give thee joy of them, sayd the king, 45 

And send them well to priefe. 
The tanner wolde faine have beene away, 

For he weende he had beene a thiefe. 

« 

What art thou, he sayde, thou fine felldwe. 

Of thee I am in great feare, 50 

For the cloathes, thou wearest upon thy backe, 
Might beseeme a lord to weare. 

I never stole them, quoth our king, 

I tell you, sir, by the roode. 
" Then thou play est, as many an unthrifl; doth, 55 

And standest in midds of thy goode *" 

What tydinges heare you, sayd the kynge, 

As you ryde farre and neare ? 
" I heare no tydinges, sir, by the masse. 

But that cowe-hides are deare." 60 

" Cowe-hides ! cowe-hides ! what things are those ? 

I marvell what they bee ?" 
What art thou a foole ? the tanner reply'd ; 

I carry one under mee* 

What craftsman art thou, said the king, 65 

I praye thee tell me trowe. 

^ t. e, hast no other wealth bat what thou earnest about thee. 



92 XING EDWARD IV. AND 

'* I am a barker •, sir, by my trade ; 
Nowe tell me what art thou ?" 

I am a poore courtier, sir, quoth he, 

That am forth of service worne ; 70 

And faine I wolde thy prentise bee, 

Thy cunninge for to learne. 

Marrye heaven forfend, the tanner replyde, 

That thou my prentise were : 
Thou woldst spend more good than I shold winne 

By fortye shilling a yere. 76 

Yet one thinge wolde I, sayd our king, 

If thou wilt not seeme strange : 
Thoughe my horse be better than thy mare. 

Yet with thee I faine wold change. 80 

" Why if with me thou faine wilt change. 

As change full well maye wee. 
By the faith of my bodye, thou proude fellowe, 

I will have some boot of thee." 

That were against reason, sayd the king, 85 

I sweare, so mote I thee : 
My horse is better than thy mare. 

And that thou well mayst see. 



ft 

^ ». tf. a dealer in bark* 



THE TANNER OF TAMWORTH. 93 

" Yea, sir, but Brocke is gentle and mild, 

And softly she will fare : 90 

Thy horse is unrulye and wild, I wiss ; 
Aye skipping here and theare." 

What boote wilt thou have ? our king reply'd ; 

Now tell me in this stound. 
" Noe pence, nor halfpence, by my faye, 95 

But a noble in gold so round.*' 

" Here's twentye groates of white money ^, 

Sith thou will have it of mee." 
I would have sworne now, quoth the tanner, 

Thou hadst not had one pennid. 100 

But since we two have made a change, 

A change we must abide. 
Although thou hast gotten Brocke my mare. 

Thou gettest not my cowe-hide. 

I will not have it, sayd the kinge, 105 

I sweare, so mought I thee ; 
Thy foule cowe-hide I wolde not beare. 

If thou woldst give it to mee. 

The tanner hee tooke his good cowe-hide, 

That of the cow was hilt ; 110 

And threwe it upon the king's sad^lle, 
That was soe fayrelye gilte. 



94 KINO EDWARD IV. AND 

" Now help me up, thou fine fellowe, 

'Tis time that I were gone ; 
When I come home to Gyllian my wife,-^ 115 

Sheel say I am a gentilmon.'* 

The king he tooke him up hy the legge ; 

The tanner a f • • lett fall. 
Nowe marrye, good fellowe, sayd the kyng, 

Thy courtesye is hut small. 120 

When the tanner he was in the kinges sadelle, 

And his foote in the stirrup was ; 
He marvelled greatly e in his minde. 

Whether it were golde or hrass. 

But when his steede saw the cows toile wagge, 
And eke the blacke cowe-home ; 1 26 

He stamped, and stared, and awaye he ranne, 
As the devill had him borne. 

The tanner he pulld, the tanner he sweat, 

And held by the pummil fast : 130 

At length the tanner came tumbling downe ; 
His necke he had well-nye brast. 

Take thy horse again with a vengeance, he sayd. 

With mee he shall not byde. 
" My horse wolde have borne thee well enoughe. 

But he knewe not of thy cowe-hide. 136 



THE TAMN£& OF TAMWORTH. 95 

Yet if againe thou faine woldst change, 

As change full well may wee, 
By the faith of my bodye, thou jolly tanner, 

I will have some boote of thee." 140 

What boote wilt thou have, the tanner replyd, 

Nowe tell me in this stounde ? 
" Ko pence nor half-pence, sir, by my faye. 

But I will have twentye pound." 

" Here's twentye groates out of my purse ; 145 

And twentye I have of thine : 
And I have one more, which we will spend 

Together at the wine." 

The king set a bugle home to his mouthe. 

And blewe both loude and shrille : 150 

And soone came lords, and soone came knights, 
Fast ryding over the hille. 

Nowe, out alas ! the tanner he cryde. 

That ever I sawe this daye ! 
Thou art a strong thiefe, yon come thy fellowes 

Will beare ray cowe-hide away. 156 

They are no thieves, the king replyde, 

I sweare, soe mote I thee : 
But they are the lords of the north countr^y, 

Here come to hunt with mee. 160 



96 KING EDWARD IV. AND 

And soone before our king they came, 

And knelt downe on the grounde : 
Then might the tanner have beene awaye, 

He had lever* than twentye pounde. 

A coUer, a coller, here : sayd the king, 165 

A coUer he loud gan crye : 
Then woulde he lever then twentye pound, 

He had not beene so nighe. 

A coller, a col]er, the tanner he sayd, 

I trowe it will breed sorrowe : 170 

After a coller commeth a halter, 

I trowe I shall be hang*d to-morrowe. 

Be not afraid tanner, said our king ; 

I tell thee, so mought I thee, 
Lo here I make thee the best esquire 175 

That is in the north countrie '. 

6 This stanza is restored from a quotation of this ballad in 
Selden*s Titles of Honour, who produces it as a good authority to 
prove, that one mode of creating Esquires at that time was by the 
imposition of a coUar. His words are, " Nor is that old pamphlet 
of the Tanner of Tamworth and King Edward the Fourth so con- 
temptible, but that wee may thence note also an observable pas- 
sage, wherein the use of making Esquires, by giving Collars, is ex- 
pressed." — (Sub. Tit. Esquire; and vide in Spelmanni Glossar. 
Armiger.) This form of creating Esquires actually exists at this 
day among the Sergeants at Arms, who are invested with a Collar 
(which they wear on Collar days) by the king himself. 

This information I owe to Samuel Pegge, Esq., to whom the 
public is indebted for that curious work the Ctina/ta, 4to. 



r 



THE TANNER OF TAMWORTH. 97 

For Plumpton-parke I will give thee, 

With tenements faire beside : 
'Tis worth three hundred markes by the yeare, 

To maintaine thy good cowe-hide. 180 

Gramercye, my liege, the tanner replyde, 

For the favour thou hast me showne ; 
If ever thou comest to merry Tarn worth, 

Neates leather shall clout thy shoen. 

# • 



XVI. 
^a l^e tame from Ht %ols S^atitr. 

DIALOGUE BETWEEN A PILGRIM AND A TRAVELLER. 

The scene of this song b the same as in No. xiv. The 
pilgrimage to Walsingham suggested the plan of many 
popular pieces. In the Pepys collection, vol. i. p. 226i 
is a kind of Interlude in the old ballad style, of which the 
first stanza alone is worth reprinting. 

AbI went to Walsingham, 

To the shrine with speede, 
Met I with a joUj palmer 

In a pilgrimes weede. 
Now God you save, you jolly palmer; 

" Welcome, lady gay, 
Oft have I sued to thee for love " 

—Oft have I said you nay. 

The pilgrimages undertaken on pretence of religion 

VOL. II. H 



98 AS Y£ CAME FROM THE HOLY LAND. 

were often productive of affairs of gallantry, and led the 
Yotaries to no other shrine than that of Venus ^. 

The following ballad was once very popular; it is 
quoted in Fletcher's Knight of the burning Pestlcj act ii. 
sc. ult., and in another old play, called Hans Beer-pot, his 
invisible Comedy, &c. 4tOy 1618, act i. The copy below 
was communicated to the Editor by the late Mr. Shen- 
stone, as corrected by him from an ancient copy, and 
supplied with a concluding stanza. 

We have placed this, and Gentle Herdsman, &c., thus 
early in the volume, upon a presumption that they must 
have been written, if not before the dissolution of the 
monasteries, yet while the remembrance of them was 
fresh in the minds of the people. 

P^ennetd on a (eape, tnttl ioftelt 0tabes, 
Qiaienten to 91S9al6tn9J6am» anlr %tc^ toencied after. 



As ye came from the holy land 

Of blessed Walsingbam, 
O met you not with my true love 

As by the way ye came 1 

** How should I know your true love, 5 

That have met many a one, 

^ Even in the time of Langland, pilgrimages to Walsingbam were 
not unfavourable to the rites of Venus. Thus, in his Visions of 
Pierce Plowman, fo. 1* 

8 «. e. their. 



AS TE CAME FROM THE HOLY LAND. 99 



« 



As I came from the holy land, 
That have both come, and gone ?" 

My love is neither white ', nor browne, 
But as the heavens faire ; 10 

There is none hat\i her form divine, 
Either in earth, or ayre. 

" Such an one did I meet, good sir, 

With an angelicke face ; 
Who like a nymphe, a queene appeard 15 

Both in her gait, her grace.'* 

Yes : she hath cleane forsaken me, 

And left me all alone ; 
Who some time loved me as her life. 

And called me her owne. 20 

*' What is the cause she leaves thee thus, 

And a new way doth take. 
That some times loved thee as her life, 

And thee her joy did make ? " 

I that loved her all my youth, 25 

Growe old now as you see ; 
Love liketh not the falling fruite, 

Nor yet the withered tree. 

> Sc. pale. 
H 2 



100 AS TE CAME PROM THE HOLT LAND. 



^ 



For love is like a carelesse childe, 

Forgetting promise past : 30 

He is blind, or deaf, whenere he list ; 

His faith is never fast. 

His fond desire is fickle found. 

And yieldes a trustlesse joye ; 
Wonne with a world of toil and care, 35 

And lost ev'n with a toye. 

Such is the love of womankinde, 

Or Loves faire name abusde, 
Beneathe which many vaine desires, 

And follyes are excusde. 40 

' But true love is a lasting fire, 

Which viewless vestals * tend ; 
That burnes for ever in the soule. 

And knowes nor change, nor end.' 

* Sc. angels. 



HA&DYKNUTB. 101 



XVII. 

A SCOTTISH FBAOMENT* 

As this fine morsel of heroic poetry hath generally passed 
for ancient, it is here thrown to the end of our earliest 
pieces ; that such as doubt of its age may the better com- 
pare it with other pieces of genuine antiquity. For after 
all, there IS more than reason to suspect, that it owes most 
of its beauties (if not its own existence) to the pen of a 
lady, within the present century. The following particu- 
lars may be depended on. One Mrs. Wardlaw, whose 
maiden name was Halket, (aunt to tbe late Sir Peter Hal- 
ket, of Pitferran, in Scotland, who was killed in America, 
along with General Braddock, in 1755,) pretended she had 
found this poem, written on shreds of paper, employed for 
what is called the bottoms of clues. A suspicion arose 
that it was her own composition. Some able judges as- 
serted it to be modern. The lady did in a manner acknow- 
ledge it to be so. Being desired to show an additional 
stanza, as a proof of this, she produced the two last, begin- 
ning with " There's nae light," &c., which were not in 
the copy that was first printed. The late Lord President 
Forbes, and Sir Gilbert Elliot, of Minto, (late Lord Justice 
Clerk for Scotland,) who had believed it ancient, contri- 
buted to the expense of publishing the first edition, in 
folio, 1719. This account was transmitted from Scotland* 
by Sir David Dalrymple, the late Lord Hailes, who yet 
was of opinion, that part of the ballad may be ancient, but 
retouched and much enlarged by the lady above men- 
tioned. Indeed he had been informed, that the late 



102 HARDYKNUTE. 

William Thompson, the Scottish musician, who published 
the Orpheus Caledonitis, 1783, 2 vols. 8vo, declared he had 
heard fragments of it repeated in his infancy, before 
Mrs. Wardlaw's copy was heard of. 

The poem is here printed from the original edition, as 
it was prepared for the press, with the additional improye- 
ments. (See below, page 1 16.) 



I. 
Stately stept he east the wa*, 

And stately stept he west, 
Full seventy years he now had seen, 

Wi* scarce seven years of rest. 
He liv'd when Britons breach of faith 5 

Wrought Scotland mickle wae : 
And ay his sword tauld to their cost, 

He was their deadlye fae. 

II. 
High on a hill his castle stood. 

With ha's and tow*rs a height, 10 

And goodly chambers fair to se, , 

Where he lodged mony a knight. 
His dame sae peerless anes and fair, 

For cbast and beauty deem'd, 
Nae marrow had in all the land, 15 

Save Elenor the queen. 






HARDYKNUTE* 103 

II1« 

Full thirteen sons to him she bare, 

All men of valour stout : 
In bloody fight with sword in hand 

Nine lost their lives bot doubt : 20 

Four yet remain, lang may they live 

To stand by liege and land : 
High was their fame, high was th^r might, 

And high was their command. 

IV, 

Oreat love they bare to Fairly fair, 25 

Their sister saft and dear, 
Her girdle 4shaw*d her middle gimp, 

And gowden glist her hair. 
What waefu' wae her beauty bred ? 

Waefu' to young and auld, ^0 

Waefu' i trow to kyth and kin, 

As story ever tauld« 

V. 

The king of Norse in summer tyde, 

PufTd up with pow'r and might, 
Landed in fair Scotland the isle 35 

With mony a hardy knight. 
The ty dings to our good Scots king 

Came, as he sat at dine. 
With noble chiefs in brave aray« 

Drinking the blood-red wine. 40 



104 HARDYKNUTE. 

VI. 

" To horse, to horse, my royal liege, 

Your faes stand on the strand, 
Full twenty thousand glittering spears 

The king of Norse commands.*' ^ 
Bring me my steed Mage dapple gray, 45 

Our good king rose and cry'd, 
A trustier beast in a' the land 

A Scots king nevir try'd. 

VII. 

Go little page, tell Hardyknute, 

That lives on hill sae hie, 50 

To draw his sword, the dread of faes. 

And haste and follow me. 
The little page flew swifl as dart 

Flung by his master's arm, 
** Come down, come down, lord Hardyknute, 55 

And rid your king frae harm." 

VIII. 

Then red red grew his dark-brown cheeks, 

Sae did his dark-brown brow ; 
His looks grew keen, as they were wont 

In dangers great to do ; 60 

He's ta'en a horn as green as glass. 

And gi'en five sounds sae shrill, 
That trees in green wood shook thereat, 

Sae loud rang ilka hill. 



HARDTKNUTE. 105 

IX. 

His sons in manly sport and glee, 65 

Had past that summer's mom, 
When low down in a grassy dale 

They heard their father's horn. 
That horn, quo' they, ne'er sounds in peace. 

We've other sport to bide. 70 

And soon they hy'd them up the hill. 

And soon were at his side. 

z. 

'* Late late the yestreen I ween'd in peace 

To end my lengthened life. 
My age might well excuse my arm 75 

Frae manly feats of strife ; 
But now that Norse do's proudly boast 

Fair Scotland to inthrall. 
It's ne'er be said of Hardyknute, 

He fear'd to fight or fall. 80 

XI. 

" Robin of Rothsay, bend thy bow. 

Thy arrows shoot sae leel. 
That mony a comely countenance 

They've turned to deadly pale. 
Brade Thomas take you but your lance 85 

You need nae weapons mair. 
If you fight wi't as you did anes 

'Gainst Westmoreland's fierce heir. 



106 HARDYKNUTE* 

XII. 

** And Malcolm, light of foot as stag 

That runs in forest wild, 90 

Get me my thousands three of men 

Well bred to sword and shield : 
Bring me my horse and harnisine, 

My blade of mettal clear. 
If faes but ken'd the hand it bare, 95 

They soon had fled for fear. 

XIII. 

" Farewell my dame sae peerless good, 

(And took her by the hand,) 
Fairer to me in age you seem, 

Than maids for beauty fam'd. 100 

My youngest son shall here remain 

To guard these stately towers, 
And shut the silver bolt that keeps 

Sae fast your painted bowers." 

XIV. 

And first she wet her comely cheiks, 105 

And then her boddice green, 
Her silken cords of twirtle twist. 

Well plett with silver sheen ; 
And apron set with mony a dice 

Of needle- wark sae rare, 110 

Wove by nae hand, as ye may guess. 

Save that of Fairly fair. 



HARDTKNUTE. 107 

XV. 

And he has ridden o'er muir and moss, 
O'er hills and mony a glen, 

When he came to a wounded knight 115 

■ 

Making a heavy mane ; 
•* Here maun I lye, here maun I dye, 

By treacherie's false guiles ; 
Witless I was that e'er ga faith 

To wicked woman's smiles." 120 

XVI. 

** Sir knight, gin you were in my bower. 

To lean on silken seat, 
My lady's kindly care you'd prove, 

Who ne'er knew deadly hate : 
Herself wou'd watch you a' the day, 125 

Her maids a dead of night ; 
And FairitY fair your heart wou'd chear, 

As she stands in your sight. 

XVII. 

'* Arise young knight, and mount your stead. 

Full lowns the shynand day : 130 

Choose frae my menzie whom ye please 

To lead you on the way." 
Witli smileless look and visage wan 

The wounded knight reply'd, 
'* Kind chieftain, your intent pursue, 135 

For here I maun abyde. 



108 HARDTKNUTE. 

XVIII. 

To me nae after day nor night 

Can e're be sweet or fair, 
But soon beneath some draping tree, 

Cauld death shall end my care." 140 

With him nae pleading might prevail ; 

Brave Hardyknute to gain 
With fairest words, and reason strong, 

Strave courteously in vain. 

XIX. 

Syne he has gane far hynd out o'er 145 

Lord Chattan's land sae wide ; 
That lord a worthy wight was ay. 

When faes his courage sey'd : 
Of Pictish race by mother's side, 

When Picts rul'd Caledon, 150 

Lord Chattan claim'd the princely maid. 

When he sav'd Pictish crown. 

XX. 

Now with his fierce and stalwart train. 

He reach'd a rising bight, 
Quhair braid encampit on the dale, 155 

Norss menzie lay in sicht. 
" Yonder my valiant sons and feirs 

Our raging re vers wait, 
On the unconquert Scottish sward 

To try with us their fate. 160 



HARDYKNUTE. 109 

XXI* 

Make orisons to him that sav'd 

Our sauls upon the rude ; 
Syne bravely shaw your veins are fiU'd 

With Caledonian blude." 
Then furth he drew his trusty glave, 165 

While thousands all around 
Drawn frae their sheaths glanc'd in the sun ; 

And loud the bougies soimd. 

XXII. 

To joyn his king adoun the hill 

In hast his merch he made, 170 

While, playand pibrochs, minstralls meit 

Afore him stately strade. 
" Thrice welcome valiant stoup of weir, 

Thy nations shield and pride ; 
Thy king nae reason has to fear 175 

When thou art by his side." 

XXIII. 

When bows were bent and darts were thrawn ; 

For thrang scarce cou*d they flee ; 
The darts clove arrows as they met, 

The arrows dart the tree. 180 

Lang did they rage and fight fu' fierce. 

With little skaith to mon, 
But bloody bloody was the field, 

Ere that lang day was done. 



110 HARDYKKUTE. 

XXIV. 

The king of Scots, that sindle brook'd 185 

The war that look*d like play, 
Drew his braid sword, and brake his bow, 

Sin bows seem'd but delay. 
Quoth noble Rothsay, " Mine I'll keep, 

I wat it's bled a score." 190 

Haste up my merry men, cry'd the king, 

As he rode on before. 

XXV. 

The king of Norse he sought to find. 

With him to mense the faught. 
But on his forehead there did light 195 

A sharp unsonsie shall ; 
As he his hand put up to feel 

The wound, an arrow keen, 
O waefu' chance ! there pinn'd his hand 

In midst between his een. 200 

XXVI. 

" Revenge, revenge, cry'd Rothsay's heir. 

Your mail-coat sha' na bide 
The strength and sharpness of my dart:" 

Then sent it through his side. 
Another arrow well he mark'd, 205 

It pierc'd his neck in twa, 
His hands then quat the silver reins, 

He low as earth did faV 



HARDYKNUTE. Ill 

XXVII. 

" Sair bleids my liege, sair, sair he bleeds !*' 

Again wi' might he drew 210 

And gesture dread his sturdy bow, 

Fast the braid arrow flew : 
Wae to the knight he ettled at ; 

Lament now queen Elgreed ; 
High dames too wail your darling's fall, 215 

His youth and comely meed. 

XXYIII. 

" Take aff, take affhis costly jupe 

(Of gold well was it twin*d. 
Knit like the fowler's net, through quhilk, 

His steelly harness shin'd,) 220 

Take, Norse, that gift frae me, and bid 

Him venge the blood it bears ; 
Say, if he face my bended bow, 

He sure nae weapon fears." 

XXIX. 

Proud Norse with giant body tall, 225 

Braid shoulders and arms strong, 
Cry'd, '' Where is Hardyknute sae fam'd, 

And fear'd at Britain's throne : 
Tho' Britons tremble at his name, 

I soon shall make f^im wail, 230 

That e'er my sword was made sae sharp, 

Sae saft his coat of mail." 



112 HARDTKNUTE. 

XXX. 

That brag his stout heart cou'd na bide, 

It lent him youthfu' raicht : 
" I'm Hardyknute ; this day, he cry'd, 235 

To Scotland's king I heght 
To lay thee low, as horses hoof; 

My word I mean to keep." 
Syne with the first stroke e'er he strake, 

He garr'd his body bleed. 240 

XXXI. 

Norss' een like gray gosehawk's stair'd wyld. 

He sigh'd wi' shame and spite ; 
" Disgrac'd is now my far-fam'd arm 

That left thee power to strike :" 
Then ga' his head a blow sae fell, 245 

It made him doun to stoup, 
As laigh as he to ladies us'd 

In courtly guise to lout. 

XXXII. 

Fu' soon he rais'd his bent body. 

His bow he marvell'd sair, 250 

Sin blows till then on him but darr'd 

As touch of Fairly fair : 
Norse marvell'd too as sair as he 

To see his stately look ; 
Sae soon as e'er he strake a fae, 255 

Sae soon his life he took. 



HARDTENUTE. 113 

XXXIII. 

Where like a fire to heather set, • 

Bauld Thomas did advance, 
Ane sturdy fae with look enrag'd 

Up toward him did prance ; 260 

He spurred his steid through thickest ranks 

The hardy youth to quell, 
Wha stood unmov'd at his approach 

His fury to repell. 

XXXIY. 

" That short brown shaft sae meanly trimm'd, 

Looks like poor Scotlands gear, 266 

But dreadfuU seems the rusty point ! " 

And loud he leugh in jear. 
^' Oft Britons blood has dimm'd its shine ; 

This point cut short their vaunt :" 270 

Sjrne pierc'd the boaster's bearded cheek ; 

Nae time he took to taunt. 

XXXV. 

Short while he in his saddle swang, 

His stirrup was nae stay, 
Sae feeble hang his unbent knee 275 

Sure taiken he was fey : 
Swith on the harden't clay he fell, 

Right far was heard the thud : 
But Thomas look't nae as he lay 

All waltering in his blud : 280 

VOL. II. I 



114 HABDTKNUTE. 

XXXVI. 

With careless gesture^ mind unmov't, 

On rode he north the plain ; 
His seem in throng of fiercest strife, 

When winner ay the same : 
Nor yet his heart dames dimpl^t cheek 285 

Could mease soft love to bruik, 
Till vengefu* Ann returned his scorn, 

Then languid grew his luik. 

XXXVII. 

In thraws of death with walowit cheik 

All panting on the plain, 290 

The fainting corps of warriours lay, 

Ne're to arise again ; 
Ne're to return to native land, 

Nae mair with blithsome sounds 
To boast the glories of the day, 295 

And shaw their shining wounds. 

XXXVIII. 

On Norways coast the widowit dame 

May wash the rocks with tears, 
May lang luik ow'r the shipless seas 

Befor her mate appears. 300 

Cease, Emma, cease to hope in vain ; 

Thy lord lyes in the clay ; 
The valiant Scots nae revers thole 

To carry life away. 



HARDTKNUTE. 115 

XXXIX. 

Here on a lee, where stands a cross 305 

Set up for monument, 
Thousands fu' fierce that summer's day 

Fill'd keen war's black intent. 
Let Scots, while Scots, praise Hardyknute, 

Let Norse the name ay dread, 310 

Ay how he faugh t, aH how he spar'd, 

Shall latest ages read. 

XL. 

Now loud and chill blew th' westlin wind, 

Sair beat the heavy shower. 
Mirk grew the night ere Hardyknute s 315 

Wan near his stately tower. 
His tow'r that us'd wi' torches blaze 

To shine sae far at night, 
Seem'd now as black as mourning weed, 

Nae marvel sair he sigh'd. 320 

• XLI. 

•* There's nae light in my lady's bower. 

There's nae light in my ha' ; 
Nae blink shines round my Fairlt fair. 

Nor ward stands on my wa'. 
What bodes it? Robert, Thomas, say ;" 325 

Nae answer fitts their dread. 
** Stand back, my sons, I'le be your guide :" 

But by they past with speed. 

I 2 



116 " HARDYKNUTE. 

XLII. 

" As fast I've sped owre Scotlands faes,*' 

There ceas'd his brag of weir, 330 

Sair sham'd to mind ought but his dame, 
And maiden Fairly fair. 

Black fear he felt, but what to fear 
He wist nae yet ; wi' dread 

Sair shook his body, sair his limbs, 335 

And a' the warrior fled. 

* # # * # 



*«* In an elegant publication, entitled Scottish Tragic 
Ballads^ printed by and for J. Nichols, 1781, 8vo, maybe 
seen a continuation of the ballad of Hardi/knute, by the 
addition of a Second Part, which hath since been acknow- 
ledged to be his own composition by the ingenious editor : 
to whom the late Sir D. Dalrymple communicated (sub- 
sequent to the account drawn up above in p. 101), ex- 
tracts of a letter from Sir John Bruce, of Kinross, to 
Lord Binning, which plainly proves the pretended disco- 
verer of the fragment of Hardyknute to have been Sir 
John Bruce himself. His words are, *' To perform my 
promise, I send you a true copy of the manuscript I 
found some weeks. ago in a vault at Dumferline. It is 
written on vellum, in a fair Gothic character, but so much 
defaced by time, as you'll find that the tenth part is not 
legible." He then gives the whole fragment as it was 
first published in 1719, save one or two stanzas, marking 
several passages as having perished by being illegible in 
the old MS. Hence it appears that Sir John was the 
author of Hardyknute, but afterwards used Mrs. Wardlaw 
to be the midwife of his poetry, and suppressed the 
story of the vault ; as is well observed by the editor of 



HARDTKNUTE. 117 

the TVagic Ballads, and of Mait]and*8 Scot, Poets, vol. i. 
p. cxxvii. 

To this gentleman we are indebted for the use of the 
copy, whence the second edition was afterwards printed, 
as the same was prepared for the press by John Clerk, 
M.D., of Edinburgh, an intimate companion of Lord Pre- 
sident Forbes* 

The title of the first edition was, *' Hardyknute, a frag- 
ment, Edinburgh, printed for James Watson, &c. 1719,** 
fulio, twelve pages. 

Stanzas not in the first edition are Nos. 17, 18, 20, 21, 
22, 23, 34, 35, 36, 37, 41, 42. 

In the present impression the orthography of Dr. 
Clerk's copy has been preserved, and his readings carefully 
followed, except in a few instances, wherein the common 
edition appeared preferable : viz. Ho had in ver. 20, but. — 
V. 56, of harm. — v. 64, every, — v. 67, /b down, — v. 83, That 
omitted. — v. 89, And omitted. — ^v, 143, With argument but 
vainly strave Lang, — v. 148, say'd.—^Y, 155, incampit on 
the plain. — v. 156, yorse squadrons. — v. 158, regand revers, 
V. 170, his strides he bent. — v. 171, minstrals phyand Pi^ 
hrochsfine, — ^v. 112, stately went, — v. 182, mon. — v. 196. 
sharp and fatal. — v, 219, which. — v. 241, stood wyld. — 
stanza 39 preceded stanza 38. — v. 305, There. — v. 313, 
blew wresi&ng, — v. 336 had originally been. He fear'd a' 
cou*d be feared. 

The Editor was also informed, on the authority of 
Dr. David Clerk, M.D., of Edinburgh, (son of the afore- 
said Dr. John Clerk,) that between the present stanzas 
36 and 37, the two following had been intended, but 
were on maturer consideration omitted, and do not now 
appear among the MS. additions. 



Now darts flew wavering through slaw speed. 
Scarce could tbey reach their aim ; 

Or reachM, scarce blood the round point drew, 
""lynA all but shot in vain : 



118 HAEDTKNUTE. 

Right Btrengtby arms forfeebled grew, 
Sair wreck'd wi' that day's toils : 

E'en fierce-bom minds now lang'd for peace, 
And cutbM war's cruel broils. 

Yet still wars horns sounded to charge, 

Swords clash'd and harness rang ; 
But saflly sae ilk blaster blew 

The hills and dales fraemang. 
Nae echo heard in double dints, 

Nor the lang-winding horn 
Nae mair she blew out brade as she 

Did eir that summers mom 



END or THE FIRST BOOK. 



RELIQUES 

OF 

ANCIENT POETRY, 



SERIES THE SECOND. 
BOOK II. 



I. 

fl BaHati of !Lnt]^er, Ht ^^oye, a Cartffnal, 

anil a )|uAantfmati. 

In the former book we brought down this second series 
of poems as low as about the middle of the sixteenth cen- 
tury. We now find the Muses deeply engaged in reli- 
gious controversy. The sudden revolution wrought in 
the opinions of mankind by the Reformation, is one of the 
more striking events in the history of the human mind. 
It could not but engross the attention of every individual 
in that age, and therefore no other writings would have 
any chance to be read, but such as related to this grand 
topic. The alterations made in the established religion 
by Henry VIII., the sudden changes it underwent in the 
three succeeding reigns within so short a space as eleven 
or twelve years, and the violent struggles between expir- 
ing Popery and growing Protestantism, could not but inte- 



20 A BALLAD OF LUTHER, THE POPE, 

rest all mankind. Accordingly every pen was engaged 
in the dispute. The followers of the Old and New Pro- 
fession (as they were called) had their respective ballad- 
makers ; and every day produced some popular sonnet for 
or against the Reformation. The following ballad, and 
that entitled Little John Nobody , may serve for specimens 
of the writings of each party. Both were written in the 
time of Edward Y I. ; and are not thb worst that were 
composed upon the occasion. Controversial divinity is 
no friend to poetic flights. Yet this ballad of '' Luther 
and the Pope,** is not altogether devoid of spirit ; it is of 
the dramatic kind, and the characters are tolerably well 
sustained : especially that of Luther, which is made to 
speak in a manner not unbecoming the spirit and courage 
of that vigorous Reformer. It is printed from the ori- 
ginal black-letter copy, (in the Pepys collection, vol. i. 
folio,) to which is prefixed a large wooden cut, designed 
and executed by some eminent master. 

We are not to wonder that the ballad-writers of that 
age should be inspired with the zeal of controversy, when 
the very stage teemed with polemic divinity. I have now 
before me two very ancient quarto black-letter Plays : — 
the one publbhed in the time of Henry YIIL, entitled 
<KFbers i^an ; the other called ilusts ifubenttts, printed 
in the reign of Edward VL In the former of these, 
occasion is taken to inculcate great reverence for old 
mother church and her superstitions ^ : in the other, the 

^ Take a specimen from his high encomiums on the priesthood. 

** There is no emperour, kyng, duke, ne haron 
That of God hath commissyon, 

As hath the leest preest in the world beynge. 

« « * * * 

God hath to them more power gjnren, 
Than to any aimgell, that is in heven ; 
With V. words he may consecrate 
Goddes body in flesshe and blode to take, 



A CARDINAL, AND A HUSBANDMAN. 121 

poet, (one R. Weyer,) with great success, attacks both. 

So that the stage in those days literally was, what wise 

men have always wished it, — a supplement to the pulpit. 

This was so much the case, that in the play of ** Lusty 

Juventus," chapter and verse are every where quoted as 

formally as in a sermon : take an instance : 

** The Lord by his prophet Ezechiel aayeth in this wise pUynlye, 
As in the zxxiij chapter it doth appere : 
Be converted, O ye children,** &c. 

From this Flay we learn that most of the young people 

were new GospeUers, or friends to the Reformation, and 

that the old were tenacious of the doctrines imbibed in 

their youth : for thus the Devil is introduced lamenting 

the downfid of superstition : — 

" The olde people would believe stil in my lawea. 
But the yonger sort leade them a contrary way, 
They wyl not beleve, they playnly say, 
In olde traditions, and made by men," &c. 

And in another place Hypocrisy urges, 

^* The worlde was never meri 
Since chyldren were so boulde : 
Now evry boy will be a teacher, 
The father a foole, the chyld a preacher.** 

Of the plays above mentioned, to the first is subjoined the 
following printer's colophon, % CJus enMI^ t]^t0 moral 

And handeleth his maker bytwene his handes. 

The preest byndeth and unbindeth all bandes, 

Both in erthe and in heven. — 

Thou ministers all the sacramentes seven. 

Though we kyst thy feete thou were worthy ; 

Thou art the surgyan that cureth synne dedly 

No remedy may we fynde under God, 

But alone on preesthode. 

— ^God gave preest that dignite, 



And letteth them in his stede amonge us be. 
Thus be they above aungels in degre.** 

See Hawkins*8 Orig. of £ng. Drama, vol. i. p. 61. 



J 



122 A BALLAD OF LUTHER, THE POPE, 

yXajsit of ((Bhev^ Man, H impr|)ntel^ at HonHon in 
yolDle0 cl^srcl^e satDe ts me Sof^n ^Itot. In Mr. Gar- 
rick's collection is an imperfect copy of the same play, 
printed by Richarde Pynson. 

The other is entitled, fln enterlul^e tallttt ILudts gn^ 
l^entUd: and is thus distinguished at the end: ^fftntS. 
guotr H. ^ISieber. Smprsntelr at Eonlron in ^aules 
rl^urcl^e s^^^vl^ ^S 9tra1)am Hele at tl^e stgne of tl^e 
ilamte. Of this too Mr. Garrick has an imperfect copy 
of a different edition. 

Of these two plays the reader may find some further 
particulars in the former volume, book ii. See " The 
Essay on the Origin of the English Stage;" and the 
curious reader will find the plays themselves printed at 
large in Hawkins's " Origin of the English Drama," 
8 vols. Oxford, 1773, 12mo. 



THE HUSBANDMAN. 

Let us lift up our hartes all. 

And prayse the Lordes magnificence, 

Which hath given the wolues a fall, 
And is become our strong defence : 
For they thorowe a false pretens 5 

From Christes bloude dyd all us leade ', 
Gettynge from every man his pence, 

As satisfactours for the deade. 

For what we with our flayles coulde get 

To kepe our house, and servauntes ; 10 

s t. e, denied us the cup, see below, ver. 94. 



A CARDINAL, AND A HUSBANDMAN. 123 

That did the Freers from us fet, 
And with our soules played the merchauntes : 
And thus they with theyr false warrantes 

Of our sweate have easelye ly ved, 
That for fatnesse theyr belyes pantes, 15 

So greatlye have they us deceaued. 

They spared not the fatherlesse, 
The carefully nor the pore wydowe ; 

They wolde have somewhat more or lesse, 

If it above the ground did growe : 20 

But now we Husbandmen do knowe 

Al their subteltye, and their false caste ; 
For the Lorde hath them overthrowe 

With bis swete word now at the laste. 

DOCTOR MARTIN LUTHER. 

Thou antichrist, with thy thre crownes, 25 

Hast usurped kynges powers, 
As having power over realmes and townes, 

Whom thou oughtest to serve all houres : 

Thou thinkest by thy jugglyng colours 
Thou maist lykewise Gods word oppresse ; 30 

As do the deceatful foulers, 
When they theyr nettes craftelye dresse. 

Thou flatterest every prince, and lord, 
Thretening poore men with swearde and fyre ; 



124 A BALLAD OF LUTHER, THE POPE, 

All those, that do foUowe Gods worde, 35 

To make them cleve to thy desire, 
Theyr bokes thou burnest in flaming fire ; 

Cursing with boke, bell, and candell, 
Such as to reade them have desyre. 

Or with them are wyllynge to meddell. 40 

Thy false power wyl I bryng down. 
Thou shalt not raygne many a yere, 

I shall dryye the from citye and towne. 
Even with this pen that thou seyste here : 
Thou fyghtest with swerd, shylde, and /Speare, 

But I wyll fyght with Gods worde ; 46 

Which is now so open and cleare. 

That it shall brynge the under the borde'. 

THE pope. 

Though I brought never so many to hel. 

And to utter dampnacion, 50 

Throughe myne ensample, and consel. 
Or thorow any abhominacion. 
Yet doth our lawe excuse my fashion. 

And thou, Luther, arte accursed ; 

For blamynge me, and my condicion, 55 

The holy decres have the condempned. 



' t. e, make thee knock under the table. 



A CARDINAL, AND A HUSBANDMAN. 125 

Thou stryvest against my purgatory, 
Because thou findest it not in scripture ; 

As though I by myne auctorite 

Myght not make one for myne bonoure. 60 
Knowest thou not, that I have power 

To make, and mar, in heaven and hell. 

In erth, and every creature ? 

Whatsoever I do it must be well. 

« 

As for scripture, I am above it ; 65 

Am not I Gods bye vicare ? 
Shulde I be bounde to folowe it, 

As the oarpenter his ruler * ? 

Nay, nay, hereticks ye are, 
That will not obey my auctoritie. 70 

With this swoRDE I wyll declare. 
That ye shal al accursed be. 

THE CARDINAL. 

I am a Cardinall of Rome, 

Sent from Christes bye vicary. 
To graunt pardon to more, and sume, 75 

That wil Luther resist strongly : 

He is a greate hereticke treuly. 
And regardeth to much the scripture ; 

For he thinketh onely thereby 
To subdue the popes high honoure. 80 

* I. e. his rule. 



126 A BALLAD OF LUTHER, ETC. 

Receive ye this pardon devoutely, 
And loke that ye agaynst him fight ; 

Plucke up youre herts, and be manlye, 
For the pope sayth ye do but ryght : 
And this be sure, that at one flyghte, 85 

Allthough ye be overcome by chaunce, 
Ye shall to heaven go with greate myghte ; 

God can make you no resistaunce. 

But these heretikes for their medlynge 

Shall go down to hel every one ; 90 

For they have not the popes blessynge, 

Nor regarde his holy pardon : • 

They thinke from all destruction 
By Christes bloud to be saved, 

Fearynge not our excommunicacion, 95 

Therefore shall they al be dampned. 



JOHN ANDERSON MT JO. 127 



II. 

A. SCOTTISH SONG. 

While in England verse was made the yehicle of con- 
troversy, and Popery was attacked in it by logical argu- 
ment, or stinging satire, we may be sure the zeal of the 
Scottish Reformers would not suffer their pens to be idle, 
but many a pasquil was discharged at the Romish priests, 
and their enormous encroachments on properly. Of 
this kind perhaps is the following, (preserved in Mait- 
land's MS. Collection of Scottish poems in the Pepysian 
library) : 

" Tak a Wobster, that is leill, 
And a Miller, that will not steill, 
With ane Priest, that is not gredy, 
And lay ane deid corpse thame by. 
And, throw virtue of thame three. 
That deid corpse sail qwyknit be." 

Thus far all was^air : but the furious hatred of Popery 
led them to employ their rhymes in a still more licentious 
manner. It is a received tradition in Scotland, that at 
the time of the Reformation, ridiculous and obscene 
songs were composed to be sung by the rabble to the 
tunes of the most favourite hymns in the Latin Service. 
Green Sleeves and Pudding Pies, (designed to ridicule the 
Popish Clergy,) is said to have been one of these meta- 
morphosed hymns : Maggy Lauder was another : John 
Anderson my Jo was a third. The original music of all 
these burlesque sonnets was very fine. To give a speci- 
men of their manner, we have inserted one of the least 
offensive. The reader will pardon the meanness of the 
composition for the sake of the anecdote, which strongly 
marks the spirit of the times. 



128 JOHN ANDERSON Mf JO. 

In the present edition this song is much improved by 
some new readings communicated by a friend, who thinks 
by the "seven bairns," in stanza 2d, are meant the Seven 
Sacraments ; five of which were the spurious offspring of 
mother Church, as the first stanza contains a satirical 
allusion to the luxury of the Popish Clergy. 

The adaptation of solemn church music to these ludi- 
crous pieces, and the jumble of ideas thereby occasioned, 
will account for the following tact. — From the Records 
of the General Assembly in Scotland, called The Book of 
the Universal Kirk, p. 90, 7th July, 1568, it appears, that 
Thomas Bassendyne, printer in Edinburgh, printed " a 
psalme bulk, in the end whereof was found printit ane 
baudy song, called Welcome Fortunes *.** 



WOMAN. 

John Anderson my jo, cum in as ze gae bye, 
And ze sail get a sheips heid weel baken in a pye ; 
Weel baken in a pye, and the haggis in a pat ; 
John Anderson my jo, cum in, and ze's get that. 

MAN. 

And how doe ze. Cummer ? and how hae ze threven ? 
And how mony bairns hae ze ? Wom. Cummer, I hae 

seven. 
Man. Are they to zour awin gude man ? Wom. Na, 

Cummer, na ; 
For five of tham were gotten, quhan he was awa*. 

^ See also Biograph. Biitan. 1st edit. vol. i. p. 177. 



LITTLE JOHN NOBODY. 129 



III. 



We have here a witty libel on the Reformation under 
King Edward VI., written about the year 1550, and pre- 
served in the Pepys collection, British Museum, and 
Strype's Memoirs of Crannier, The author artfully de- 
clines entering into the merits of the cause, and wholly 
reflects on the lives and actions of many of the reformed. 
It is so easy to find flaws and imperfections in the conduct 
of men, even the best of them, and still easier to make 
general exclamations about the profligacy of the present 
times, that no great point is gained by arguments of that 
sort, unless the author could have proved that the princi- 
ples of the reformed Religion had a natural tendency to 
produce a corruption of manners ; whereas he indirectly 
owns, that their Reverend Father [Archbishop Cranmer] 
had used the most proper means to stem the torrent, by 
giving the people access to the Scriptures, by teaching 
them to pray with understanding, and by publishing 
homilies, and other religious tracts. It must, however, 
be acknowledged, that our libeller had at that time suffi- 
cient room for just satire. For under the banners of the 
reformed had enlisted themselves many concealed pa- 
pists who had private ends to gratify ; many that were of 
no religion ; many greedy courtiers, who thirsted after 
the possessions of the church ; and many dissolute per- 
sons, who wanted to be exempt from all ecclesiastical 
censures : and as these men were loudest of all others in 
their cries for Reformation, so in effect none obstructed 
the regular progress of it so much, or by their vicious 
lives brought vexation and shame more on the truly ve- 
nerable and pious Reformers. 

VOL. II. K 



130 LITTLE JOHN NOBODY. 

The reader will remark the fondness of our satirist for 
alliteration ; in this he was guilty of no affectation or 
singularity ; his versification is that of Pierce PlowmarCs 
Visions, in which a recurrence of similar letters is essen- 
tial : to this he has only superadded rhyme, which in his 
time began to be the general practice. See an Essay on 
this very peculiar kind of metre, prefixed to book iii. in 
this volume. 



In december, when the dayes draw to be short, 
After november, when the nights wax noysome and 

long; 
As I past by a place privily at a port, 
I saw one sit by himself making a song : 
His last ^ talk of trifles, who told with his tongue 
That few were fasti* th' faith. I 'freyned" that 

freake, 
Whether he wanted wit, or some bad done him 

wrong. 
He said, he was little John Nobody, that durst not 

speake. 

John Nobody, quoth I, what news ? thou soon note 

and tell 
What maner men thou meane, that are so mad. 
He said, These gay gallants, that wil construe the 

gospel, 
As Solomon the sage, with semblance full sad ; 

^ Perhaps ^e left talk. ^ feyned, MSS. and p.c. 



LITTLE JOHN NOBODY* 131 

To discusse divinity they nought adread ; 
More meet it were for them to milk kye at a fleyke. 
Thou lyest, quoth I, thou losel, like a leud lad. 
He said he was little John Nohody, that durst not 
speake. 

Its meet for every man on this matter to talk, 
And the glorious gospel ghostly to have in mind ; 
It is so the said, that sect but' much unseemly skalk ; 
As boyes babble in books, that in scripture are 

blind : 
Yet to their fancy soon a cause will find ; 
As to live in lust, in lechery to leyke : 
Such caitives count to become of Cains kind ' ; 
But that I little John Nobody durst not speake. 

For our reverend father hath set forth an order, 
Our service to be said in our seignours tongue ; 
As Solomon the sage set forth the scripture ; 
Our suffrages, and services, with many a sweet 

song. 
With homilies, and godly books us among. 
That no stiff, stubborn stomacks we should freyke : 
But wretches nere worse to do poor men wrong ; 
But that I little John Nobody dare not speake. 

' Cain*8 kind.] So in Pierce the Plowman*! Greed, the proud 
friars are said to be 

** ©f €afime» Itmtr." Vide tig. c y. b. 

K 2 



132 LITTLE JOHN NOBODY. 

For bribery was never so great, since bom was our 
Lord, 

And whoredom was never les hated, sith Christ har- 
rowed hel. 

And poor men are so sore punished commonly 
through the world, 

That it would grieve any one, that good is, to hear tel. 

For al the homilies and good books, yet their hearts 
be so quel, 

That if a m^n do amisse, with mischiefe they wil him 
wreake ; 

The fashion of these new fellows it is so vile and fell: 
But that I little John Nobody dare not speake. 

Thus to live after their lust, that life would they have, 
And in lechery to leyke al their long life ; 
For al the preaching of Paul, yet many a proud knave 
Wil move mischiefe in their mind both to maid and 

wife 
ff o bring them in advoutry, or else they wil strife 
And" in brawling about baudery, Gods command- 
ments breake : 
But of these frantic il fellowes, few of them do thrife; 
Though I little John Nobody dare not speake. 

If thou company with them, they wil currishly carp, 

and not care 
According to their foolish fantacy ; but fast wil they 

naught : 



LITTLE JOHN NOBODY. 133 

Prayer with them is but prating ; therefore they it 

forbear : 
Both almes deeds, and holiness, they hate it in their 

thought : 
Therefore pray we to that prince, that with his bloud 

us bought, 
That he wil mend that is amiss : for many a manful 

freyke 
Is sorry for these sects, though they say little or 

nought ; 
And that I little John Nobody dare not once 

speake. 

Thus in no place, this Nobody, in no time I met. 
Where no man, *ne** nought was, nor nothing 

did appear ; 
Through the sound of a synagogue for sorrow I swett. 
That ' Aeolus ' ' through the eccho did cause me to 

hear* 
Then I drew me down into a dale whereas the dumb 

deer 
Did shiver for a shower; but I shunted from a 

freyke : 
For I would no wight in this world wist who I were, 
But little John Nobody, that dare not once speake. 

* then, MSS. and p.a << Hercules, MSS. and p.a 



134 Q. Elizabeth's verses. 



IV. 

(&. <EIf|a6et]^'^ WevHtH toj^tle Jj^vi^ntv at 

WBIT WITH CHARCOAL ON A SHUTTER, 

Are preserved by Hentzner, in that part of his Travels 
which has been reprinted in so elegant a manner at 
Strawberry- Hill. In Hentzner's book they were wretch- 
edly corrupted, but are here given as amended by his 
ingenious editor. The old orthography, and one or two 
ancient readings of Hentzner's copy, are here restored. 

Oh, Fortune ! how thy restlesse wavering state 

Hath fraught with cares my troubled witt ! 
Witnes this present prisonn, whither fate 

Could beare me, and the joys I quit. 
Thou causedest the guiltie to be losed 5 

From bandes, wherein are innocents inclosed : 
Causing the guiltles to be straite reserved, 
And freeing those that death hath well deserved. 
But by her envie can be nothing wroughte. 
So God send to my foes all they have thoughte. 10 

A.D. MDLV. ElIZABETHE, PrISONNER. 

Ver. 4, Cotdd beare^ is an ancient idiom, equivalent to did hear^ 
or hath home. See below, the Beggar of Bednal Greeny ver. 57, 
Could say. 



THE HEIR OF LINNE. 135 



V. 



The original of this ballad is foand in the Editor's folio 
MS., the breaches and defects in which rendered the 
insertion of supplemental stanzas necessary. These it is 
hoped the reader will pardon, as indeed the completion of 
the story was suggested by a modem ballad on a similar 
subject. 

From the Scottish phrases here and there discernible 
in this poem, it should seem to have been originally com- 
posed beyond the Tweed. 

The Heir of Linne appears not to have been a lord of 
parliament, but a laird, whose title went along with his 
estate. 

PART THE FIRST. 

Lithe and listen, gentlemen. 

To sing a song I will beginne : 
It is of a lord of faire Scotland, 

Which was the unthrifty heire of Linne. 

His father was a right good lord, 5 

His mother a lady of high degree ; 

But they, alas ! were dead, him froe, 
And he lov*d keeping companie. 

To spend the daye with merry cheare, 

To drinke and revell every night, 10 

To card and dice from eve to mome. 
It was, I ween, his hearts delighte. 



136 THE B£tR OF LINNE. 

To ride, to runne, to rant, to roare, 

To alwaye spend and never spare, 
I wott, an' it were the king himselfe, 15 

Of gold and fee he mote be bare. 

Soe fares the unthrifty lord of Linne 
Till all his gold is gone and spent ; 

And he maun selle his landes so broad, 

His house, and landes, and all his rent. 20 

His father had a keen stewarde. 

And John o' the Scales was called hee : 

But John is become a gentel-man, 
And John has gott both gold and fee. 

Sayes, Welcome, welcome, lord of Linne, 25 

Let nought disturb thy merry cheere ; 

Iff thou wilt sell thy landes soe broad, 
Good store of gold He give thee heere. 

My gold is gone, my mqney is spent ; 

My lande nowe take it unto thee : 30 

Give me the golde, good John o' the Scales, 

And thine for aye my lande shall bee. 

Then John he did him to record draw, 
And John he cast him a gods-pennie ' ; 

^ »'. e. eaniest-monfey; from the French * denier & Dieu.* At this 
day, when application is made to the Dean and Chapter of Carlisle 
to accept an exchange of the tenant under one of their leases, a 



THE HEIR OF LINKS. 137 

But for every pounde that John agreed, 35 

The lande, I wis, was well worth three. 

He told him the gold upon the horde, 
He was right glad his land to winne ; 

The gold is thine, the land is mine, 

And now He be the lord of Linne. 40 

Thus he hath sold his land soe broad. 
Both hill and holt, and moore and fenne, 

All but a poore and lonesome lodge, 
That stood far o£P in a lonely glenne. 

For soe he to his father hight, 45 

My Sonne, when I am gonne, sayd hee, 

Then thou wilt spend thy lande so broad. 
And thou wilt spend thy gold so free : 

But sweare me no we upon the roode. 

That lonesome lodge thou*lt never spend ; 50 

For when all the world doth frown on thee. 
Thou there shalt find a faithful friend. 

The heire of Linne is full of golde : 

And come with me, my friends, sayd hee. 

Let's drinke, and rant, and merry make, 55 

And he that spares, ne'er mote he thee. 

piece of silver is presented by the new tenant, which is still called a 
Go<tt-penny, 



138 THE HEIR OF LINNE. 

They ranted, drank, and merry made, 

Till all his gold it waxed thinne ; 
And then his friendes they slunk away ; 

They left the unthrifty heire of Linne. 60 

He had never a penny left in his purse. 

Never a penny left but three, 
And one was brass, another was lead. 

And another it was white money. 

Nowe well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne, 65 

Nowe well-aday, and woe is mee. 
For when I was the lord of Linne, 

I never wanted gold nor fee. 

But many a trustye friend have I, 

And why shold I feel dole or care ? 70 

He borrow of them all by turnes, 

Soe need I not be never bare. 

But one, I wis, was not at home ; 

Another had payd his gold away ; 
Another calPd him thriftless loone, 75 

And bade him sharpely wend his way. 

Now well-aday, said the heire of Linne, 
Now well-aday, and woe is me ; 

Ver. 63, 64, 65, &c. Sic MSS. 



THE HEIR OF LINNE. 139 

For when I had my landes so broad, 

On me they liv'd right merrilee. 80 

To beg my bread from door to door 

I wis, it were a brenning shame : 
To rob and steal it were a sinne : 

To worke my limbs I cannot frame. 

Now He away to lonesome lodge, 85 

For there my father bade me wend ; 

When all the world should frown on mee 
I there shold find a trusty friend. 



PART THE SECOND. 

A WAT then hyed the heire of Linne 
Oer hill and holt, and moor and fenne, 

Untill he came to lonesome lodge, 
That stood so lowe in a lonely glenne. 

He looked up, he looked downe, 5 

In hope some comfort for to winne : 

But bare and lothly were the walles. 
Here's sorry cheare, quo' the heire of Linne. 

The little windowe dim and darke 

Was hung with ivy, brere, and yewe ; 10 

No shimmering sunn here ever shone ; 

No halesome breeze here ever blew. 




140 THE HEIR OF LIKNE. 

No chair, ne table he mote spye, 
No chearful hearth, ne welcome bed. 

Nought save a rope witli renning noose, 15 

That dangling hung up o*er his head. 

And over it in broad letters, 

These words were written so plain to see : 
** Ah ! gracelesse wretch, hast spent thine all, 

And brought thyselfe to penurie ? 20 

* 
** All this my boding mind misgave, 

I therefore left this trusty friend : 
Let it now sheeld thy foule disgrace, 

And all thy shame and sorrows end." 

Sorely shent wi' this rebuke, . 25 

Sorely shent was the heire of Linne ; . 

His heart, I wis, was near to brast 

With guilt and sorrowe, shame and sinne. 

Never a word spake the heire of Linne, 

Never a word he spake but three : SO 

" This is a trusty friend indeed. 
And is right welcome unto mee." 

Then round his necke the corde he drewe. 

And sprang aloft with his bodie : 
When lo ! the ceiling burst in twaine, 35 

And to the ground came tumbling bee. 



THE HEIR OP LINNE. 141 

A Stony ed lay the heire of Linne, 

Ne knewe if be were live or dead : 
At length he looked, and sawe a bille, 

And in it a key of gold so redd. 40 

He took the bill, and lookt it on, 
Strait good comfort found he there : 

Itt told hini of a hole in the wall, 

In which there stood three chests in-fere '. 

• 
Two were full of the beaten golde, 45 

The third was full of white money ; 

And over them in broad letters 

These words were written so plaine to see : 

" Once more, my sonne, I sette thee clere ; 

Amend thy life and follies past ; 50 

For but thou amend thee of thy life, 

That rope must be thy end at last." 

And let it bee, sayd the heire of Linne ; 

And let it bee, but if I amend ^ : 
For here I will make mine avow, 55 

This reade * shall guide me to the end. 

Away then went with a merry cheare, 
Away then went the heire of Linne 

* In-fere, i. e. together. ' t. e. unless I amend. 

* i. e. advice; counsel. 



142 THE HEIR O? LINNE. 

I wis, he neither ceas'd ne blanne, 

Till John o' the Scales house he did winne. 60 

And when he came to John o' the Scales, 
Upp at the speere ^ then looked hee ; 

There sate three lords upon a rowe, 
Were drinking of the wine so free. 

And John himself sate at the bord-head, 65 

Because now lord of Linne was hee. 

I pray thee, he said, good John o' the Scales, 
One forty pence for to lend mee. 

Away, away, thou thriftless loone ; 

Away, away, this may not bee ; 70 

For Christs curse on my head, he sayd, 

If ever I trust thee one pennie. 

Then bespake the heire of Linne, 

To John o' the Scales wife then spake he : 

Madame, some almes on me bestowe, 75 

I pray for sweet saint Charitie. 

Away, away, thou thriftless loone, 
I swear thou gettest no almes of mee ; 

V. 60, an old northern phrase. 

5 Perhaps the hole in the door or window, hy which it was 
speered, i. e, sparred, fastened, or shut. In Balers 2d part of the 
Acts of Eng. Votaries^ we have this phrase (fol. 38), *' The dore 
thereof ofl tymes opened and speared agayne.^* 



THE HEIR OF LINNE. 148 

For if we shold hang any losel heere, 

The first we wold begin with thee. 80 

Then bespake a good fellowe, 

Which sat at John o' the Scales his bord ; 
Sayd, Turn againe, thou heire of Linne ; 

Some time thou wast a well good lord : 

Some time a good fellow thou hast been, 85 

And sparedst not thy gold and fee ; 

Therefore He lend thee forty pence, 
And other forty if need bee. 

And ever, I pray thee, John o' the Scales, 
To let him sit in thy companie : 90 

For well I wot thou hadst his land. 
And a good bargain it was to thee. 

Up then spake him John o' the Scales, 

All wood he answer*d him againe : 
Now Christs curse on my head, he sayd, 95 

But I did lose by that bargaine. 

And here I proffer thee, heire of Linne, 
Before these lords so faire and free. 

Thou shalt have it backe again better cheape, 
By a hundred markes, than I had it of thee. 

I drawe you to record, lords, he said. 101 

With that he cast him a gods pennie : 



144 THE HEIR OF LINNE, 

Now by my fay, sayd the heire of Linne, 
And here, good John, is thy money. 

And he pull'd forth three bagges of gold, 1 05 

And layd them down upon the bord : 

All woe begone was John o' the Scales, 
Soe shent he cold say never a word. 

He told him forth the good red gold. 

He told it forth mickle dinne. 110 

The gold is thine, the land is mine. 

And now Ime againe the lord of Linne. 

Sayes, Have thou here, thou good fell<^we. 

Forty pence thou didst lend mee : 
Now I am againe the lord of Linne, 115 

And forty pounds I will give thee. 

He make thee keeper of my forrest. 
Both of the wild deere and the tame ; 

For but I reward thy bounteous heart, 

I wis, good fellowe, I were to blame. 120 

Now well-aday ! sayth Joan o' the Scales : 
Now well-aday ! and woe is my life ! 

Yesterday I was lady of Linne, 

Now Ime but John o' the Scales his wife. 



y. 34. of part i., and 102 of part ii., ca^ is the readiog of 
the MS. 



gascoigne's praise of the fair bridges. 145 

Now fare thee well, sayd the heire of Linne ; 125 
Farewell now, John o' the Scales, said hee : 

Christs curse light on me, if ever again 
I bring my lands in jeopardy. 

V 

%* In the present edition of this ballad, several 
ancient readings are restored from the folio MS. 



VI. 
(S^i^taisaea ^vaint o( tit dfsiit ^rdrgest, 

ON HER HAVING A SCAR IN HER FOREHEAD. 

George Gascoigne was a celebrated poet in the early 
part of Queen Elizabeth's reign, and appears to great 
advantage among the miscellaneous writers of that age. 
He was author of three or four plays, and of many 
smaller poems ; one of the most remarkable of which is 
a satire in blank verse, called the Steele-gkus, 1576, 4to. 

Gascoigne was born in Essex, educated in both uni<* 
versities, whence he removed to Gray's-inn; but, dis* 
liking the study of the law, became first a dangler at 
court, and afterwards a soldier in the wars of the Low 
Countries. He had no great success in any of these pur- 
suits, as appears from a poem of his, entitled, ** Gascoigne's 
Wodmanship, written to Lord Gray of Wilton." Many 
of his epistles dedicatory, are dated in 1575, 1576, from 
*' his poore house in Waithamstoe :'* where he died a 
middle-aged man in 1578, according to Anth. Wood ; or 

VOL. II. L 



146 gascoigne's praise 

rather in 1577, if he is the person meant in an old tract, 
entitled, ** A Remembrance of the well employed Life 
and Godly End of George Gascoigne, Esq. who deceased 
at Stamford in Lincolnshire, Oct. 7. 1577, by Geo. Whet- 
stone, gent, an eye-witness of his godly and charitable 
end in this world,*' 4to. no date. — [From a MS. of 
Oldys.] 

Mr. Thomas Warton thinks " Gascoigne has much ex- 
ceeded all the poets of his age in smoothness and har- 
mony of versification ^" But the truth is, scarce any of 
the earlier poets of Queen Elizabeth's time are found de- 
ficient in harmony and smoothness, though those qualities 
appear so rare in the writings of their successors. In the 
Paradise of dainty Devises ^ (the Dodsley's Miscellany 
of those times,) will hardly be found one rough or inhar- 
monious line ^ : whereas the numbers of Jonson, Donne, 
and most of their contemporaries, frequently offend the 
ear, like the filing of a saw. — Perhaps this is in some 
measure to be accounted for from the growing pedantry 
of that age, and from the writers affecting to run their 
lines into one another, after the manner of the Latin and 
Greek poets. 

The following poem (which the elegant writer above 
quoted hath recommended to notice, as possessed of a 
delicacy rarely to be seen in that early state of our poetry) 
properly consists of Alexandrines of twelve and fourteen 
syllables, and is printed from two quarto black-letter col- 
lections of Gascoigne's pieces ; the first entitled, " A hun- 
dreth sundrie flowres, bounde up in one small posie, &c. 
London, imprinted for Richarde Smith :'* without date, 
but from a letter of H. W. (p. 202), compared with the 

1 Observations on the Faerie QueeUy vol. ii. p. 168. 

s Printed in 1578, 1596, and perhaps oftener, in 4to.,l)lack- 
letter. 

• The same is true of most of the poems in the Mirrour o/Ma- 
ffistrateSi 1563, 4to., and also of Surrey's Poems, 1557. 



OF THE FAIR BRIDGES. 147 

printer*s epist. to the reader, it appears to have been pub- 
lished in 1572, or 3. The other is entitled, ** The Posies 
of George Gascoigne, Esq. corrected, perfected, and aug- 
mented by the author, 1575. — Printed at London, for 
Richard Smith," &c No year, but the epist. dcdicat. is 
dated 1576. 

In the title-page of this last (by way of printer's \ or 
bookseller's device) is an ornamental wooden cut, tole- 
rably well executed, wherein Time is represented draw- 
ing the figure of Truth out of a pit or cavern, with this 
legend. Occulta Veritas Tempore patet, [a. s.] This is 
mentioned, because it is not improbable but the accidental 
sight of this, or some other title-page containing the same 
device, suggested to Rubens that well-known design of a 
similar kind, which he has introduced into the Luxem- 
burg Gallery ^ and which has been so justly censured for 
the unnatural manner ol" its execution. The device 
above mentioned, being not ill adapted to the subject of 
this volume, has, with some small variations, been copied ; 
and, to satisfy the curiosity of the reader^ was prefixed 
to book iii. 



In court whoso demaundes 

What dame doth most excel! ; 
For my conceit I must needes say, 

Faire Bridges beares the beL 

Upon whose lively cheeke, 

To prove my judgment true, 
The rose and lillie seeme to strive 

For equall change of hewe : 

* Henrie Binnemaa. ^ Le Tems d^convre la Y^rite. 

L 2 



148 oascoiome's p&aisx 

And therewithal! so well 

Hir graces all agree; 10 

No frowning cheere dare once presume 

In hir sweet face to bee. 

Although some lavishe lippes, 

Which like some other best, 
Will say, the blemishe on hir browe 15 

Disgraceth all the rest. 

Thereto I thus replie ; 

God wotte, they little knowe 
The hidden cause of that mishap, 

Nor how the harm did growe : 20 

For when dame Nature first 

Had framde hir heavenly face, 
And thoroughly bedecked it 

With goodly gleames of grace ; 

It lyked hir so well : 25 

Lo here, quod she, a peece 
For perfect shape, that passeth all 

Appelles' worke in Greece. 

This bayt may chaunce to catche 

The greatest God of love, 30 

Or mightie thundring Jove himself. 

That rules the roast above. 



OF THE FAIR BRIDGES* 149 

But out, alas ! those wordes 

Were vaunted all in yayne : 
And some unseen were present there, 35 

Pore Bridges, to thy pain. 

For Cupide, crafty boy, 

Close in a comer stoode, 
Not blyndfold then, to gaze on hir : 

I gesse it did him good. 40 

Vet when he felte the flame 

Gan kindle in his brest. 
And herd dame Nature boast by hir 

To break him of his rest. 

His hot newe-chosen love 45 

He chaunged into hate, 
And sodeynly with mightie mace 

Gan rap hir on the pate. 

It greeved Nature muche 

To see the cruell deede : 50 

Mee seemes I see hir, how she wept 

To see hir dearling bleede. 

Wei yet, quod she, this hurt 

Shal have some helpe I trowe : 
And quick with skin she coverd it, 55 

That whiter is than snowe. 



150 gascoigne's pbaise of the fair bridges. 

Wherwith Dan Cupide fled, 

For feare of further flame^ 
When angel-like he saw hir shine, 

Whome he had smit with shame. 60 

Lo, thus was Bridges hurt 

In cradel of hir kind. 
The coward Cupide brake hir browe 

To wreke his wounded mynd. 

The skar still there remains ; 65 

No force, there let it bee : 
There is no cloude that can eclipse 

So bright a sunne, as she. 

V. 62, In cradel of hir kind : i. e. in the cradle of her family. 
See Warton's Observations^ vol. ii. p. 137. 



*#* The lady here celebrated was Catharine, daughter 
of Edmond second Lord Chandos, wife of William Lord 
Sands. See Coilins's Peerage, vol. ii. p. 133, ed. 1779. 



FAIR ROSAMOND. 151 



VII. 

jFafr 3ftoi$amontr« 

Most of the circumstances in this popular story of King 
Henry II. and the beautiful Rosamond, have been taken 
for fact by our English historians, who, unable to account 
for the unnatural conduct of Queen Eleanor in stimulat- 
ing her sons to rebellion, have attributed it to jealousy, 
and supposed that Henry's amour with Rosamond was the 
object of that passion. 

Our old English annalists seem, most of them, to have 
followed Higden, the monk of Chester, whose account, 
with some enlargements, is thus given by Stow. " Rosa- 
mond the fay re daughter of Walter lord Clifford, concu- 
bine to Henry II. (poisoned by queen Elianor, as some 
thought), dyed at Woodstocke [a.d. 1177], where king 
Henry had made for her a house of wonderfull working ; 
so that no man or woman might come to her, but he that 
was instructed by the king, or such as were right secret 
with him touching the matter. This house after some 
was named Labyrinthus, or Dedalus worke, which was 
wrought like unto a knot in a garden, called a Maze ^ ; 
but it was commonly said, that lastly the queene came to 
her by a clue of thridde, or silke, and so dealt with her, 
that she lived not long after : but when she was dead, she 
was buried at Godstow in an house of nunnes, beside 
Oxford, with these verses upon her tombe : 

HIC JACET IN TUMBA, ROSA MUNDI, NON ROHA MUNDA : 
NON REDOLET, 8BD OLET, QUiB RBDOLERE SOLBT. 

^ Consisting of vaults under ground, arched and walled with 
brick and stone, according to Drayton. See note on his Epistle of 
Rotanumd, 



152 FAIR ROSAMOND* 

In English thus : 

" The rose of the world, but not the cleane flowre, 
Is now here graven ; to whom beauty was lent : 
In this grave full darke nowe is her bowre, 
That by her life was sweete and redolent : 
But now that she is from this life blent, 
Though she were sweete, now foully doth she stinke. 
A mirrour good for all men, that on her thinke.*^ 

Stow*s Annals, ed. 1631, p. 154. 

How the queen gained admittance into Rosamond's 
bower is diiferentlj related. Holinshed speaks of it, as 
" the common report of the people, that the queene . . . 
founde hir out by a silken thread, which the king had 
drawne after him out of hir chamber with bis foot, and 
dealt with hir in such sharpe and cruell wise, that she 
lived not long after.*' Vol. iii. p. 115. On the other 
hand, in Speed's Hist., we are told that the jealous queen 
found her out "by a clew of silke, fallen from Rosamund's 
lappe as shee sate to take ayre, and suddenly fleeing from 
the sight of the searcher, the end of her silke fastened to 
her foot, and the clew still unwinding, remained behinde : 
which the queene followed, till shee had found what she 
sought, and upon Rosamund so vented her spleene, as the 
lady lived not long after." 3d edit. p. 509. Our ballad- 
maker with more ingenuity, and probably as much truth, 
tells us the clue was gained by surprise, from the knight 
who was left to guard her bower. 

It is observable, that none of the old writers attribute 
Rosamond's death to poison (Stowe, above, mentions it 
merely as a slight conjecture) ; they only give us to 
understand, that the queen treated her harshly ; with 
furious menaces, we may suppose, and sharp expostulations, 
which had such effect on her spirits, that she did not 
long survive it. Indeed, on her tomb-stone, as we learn 
from a person of credit ^, among other fine sculptures* 

> Tho. Allen, of Glouc. Hall, Oxon, who died in 1632, aged 



PAIR ROSAMOND. 153 

was eDg^ven the figure of a cup. This, which, perhaps, 
at first was an accidental ornament, (perhaps only the 
chalice,) might in after-times suggest the notion that she 
was poisoned ; at least this construction was put upon it 
when the stone came to be demolished after the nunnery 
was dissoWed. The account is that ^ the' tombstone of 
Rosamund Clifford was taken up at Godstow, and broken 
in pieces, and that upon it were interchangeable weavings 
drawn out and decked with roses red and green, and the 
picture of the cup^ out of which she drank the poison 
given her by the queen, carved in stone." 

Rosamond's father having been a great benefactor to 
the nunnery of Godstow, where she had also resided her- 
self in the innocent part of her life, her body was convey- 
ed there, and buried in the middle of the choir ; in which 
place it remained till the year 1191, when Hugh, bishop 
of Lincoln, caused it to be removed. The fact is recorded 
by Hoveden, a contemporary writer, whose words are 
thus translated by Stow : " Hugh, bishop of Lincolne, 
came to the abbey of nunnes, called Godstow, .... and 
when he had entred the church to pray, he saw a tombe 
in the middle of the quire, covered with a pall of silke, 
and set about with lights of waxe : and demanding whose 
tomb it was, he was answered that it was the tombe of 
Rosamond, that was some time lemman to Henry II. 

who for the love of her had done much good to 

that church. Then, quoth the bishop, take out of this 
place the harlot, and bury her without the church, lest 
Christian religion should grow in contempt ; and to the 
end that, through example of her, other women being 
made afraid, may beware, and keepe themselves from 
unlawfull and advouterous company with men." — Annals, 
p. 159. 

90. See Hearne^s rambling digcoui-se concerning Rosamond, at the 
end of Gid, Neubrig, Hitt. vol. ill. p. 73d. 



154 FAIR ROSAMOND. 

History further informs us, that Ring John repaired 
Godstow nunnery, and endowed it with yearly revenues, 
"that these holy virgins might releeve with their prayers 
the soules of his father king Henrie, and of lady Rosa- 
mund, there interred ■."... In what situation her re- 
mains were found at the dissolution of the nunnery, we 
learn from Leland : *' Rosamundes tumbe at Godstowe 
nunnery was taken up [of] late ; it is a stone with this in. 
scription, Tumba Rosamundce. Her bones were closid in 
lede, and withyn that bones were closyd yn lether. 
When it was opened, a very swete smell came owt of it *." 
See Hearne's discourse above quoted, written in 1718 ; at 
which time, he tells us, were still seen by the pool at 
Woodstock the foundations of a Yery large building, 
which were believed to be the remains of Rosamond's 
labyrinth. 

To conclude this (perhaps too prolix) account, Henry 
had two sons by Rosamond, from a computation of whose 
ages, a modern historian has endeavoured to invalidate 
the received story. These were William Longue-espe, 
(or Long-sword,) Earl of Salisbury, and Geoffrey, Bishop 
of Lincolne *. Geoffrey was the younger of Rosamond's 
sons, and yet is said to have been twenty years old at the 
time of his election to that see in 1 173. Hence this wri- 
ter concludes, that King Henry fell in love vnth Rosamond 
in 1149, when in Ring Stephen's reign he came over to 
be knighted by the Ring of Scots ; he also thinks it pro- 
bable that Henry's commerce with this lady <* broke off 
upon his marriage vnth Eleanor, [in 1152,] and that the 
young lady, by a natural effect of grief and resentment at 

' Vide reign of Henry II. in Speed*B History, writ by Dr. Bar- 
cham, Dean of Booking. 

4 This would have passed for miraculous, if it had happened in 
the tomb of any clerical person, and a proof of his being a saint. 

^ Afterwards Archbishop of York, temp. Rich. I. 



FAIR ROSAMOND. 155 

the defection of her lover, entered on that occasion into 
the nunnery of Godstowe, where she died, probably be- 
fore the rebellion of Henry's sons in inS.** [Carte's 
Hist. vol. i. p. 652.] But let it be observed, that Henry 
was but sixteen years old when he came over to be 
knighted ; that he stayed but eight months in this island, 
and was almoat all the time with the King of Scots ; that 
he jid not return back to England till 1 153, the year 
after his marriage with Eleanor ; and that no writer drops 
the least hint of Rosamond's having ever been abroad 
with her lover, nor indeed is it probable that a boy of 
sixteen should venture to carry over a mistress to his 
mother's court. If all these circumstances are considered, 
Mr. Carte's account will be found more incoherent and 
improbable than that of the old ballad ; which ia also 
countenanced by most of our old historians. 

Indeed, the true date of Geofirey's birth, and conse- 
quently of Henry's commerce with Rosamond, seems to 
be best ascertained from an ancient manuscript in the 
Cotton library ; wherein it is thus registered of Geoffrey 
Plantagenet, " Natus est 5° Henry II. [1159.] Factus 
est miles 25^ Henry II. [1179.] Elect, in Episcop. 
Lincoln. 28® Henry II. [1182]." Vide Chron. de 
Kirkstall, (Domitian XII.) Drake's Hbt. of York, p. 
422. 

The ballad of Fair Eosamond appears to have been first 
published in ** Strange Histories or Songs and Sonnets of 
Kinges, Princes, Dukes, Lords, LAdyes, Knights, and 
Gentlemen, &c. By Thomas Delone. Lond. 1612,''4to. 
It is now printed (with conjectural emendations) from 
four ancient copies in black-letter ; two of them in the 
Pepys library. 



156 FAIB ROSAMOND. 

When as king Henry rulde this land, 

The second of that name, 
Besides the queene, he dearly lovde 

A faire and coroely dame. 

Most peerlesse was her beautye founde, 5 

Her favour, and her face ; • 

A sweeter creature in this worlde 
Could never prince embrace. 

Her crisped lockes like threads of golde 

Appeard to each mans sight ; 10 

Her sparkling eyes, like Orient pearles, 
Did cast a heavenlye light. 

The blood within her crystal cheekes 

Did such a colour drive. 
As though the lillye and the rose 15 

For mastership did strive. 

Yea Rosamonde, fair Rosamonde, 

Her name was called so. 
To whom our queene, dame Ellinor, 

Was known a deadlye foe. 20 

The king therefore, for her defence. 

Against the furious queene, 
At Woodstocke builded such a bower, 

The like was never scene. 



FAIR KOSAMOITD. 157 

Most curiously th'at bower was built 25 

Of stone and timber strong, 
An hundered and fif^y doors 

Did to this bower belong : 

And they so cunninglye contrived 

With turnings round about, 30 

That none but with a clue of thread, 

Could enter in or out. 

And for his love and ladyes sake, 

That was so faire and brighte. 
The keeping of this bower he gave 35 

Unto a valiant knighte. 

But fortune, that doth often frowne 

Where she before did smile, 
The kinges delighte and ladyes joy 

Full soon shee did beguile : 40 

For why, the kinges ungracious sonne. 

Whom he did high advance, 
Against his father raised warres 

Within the realme of France, 

But yet before our comelye king 45 

The English land forsooke. 
Of Rosamond, his lady faire, 

His farewelle thus he tooke : 



158 FAIR ROSAMOND. 



CI 



My Rosaroonde, my only Rose, 
That pleasest best mine eye : 50 

The fairest flower in all the worlde 
To feed my fantasye : 

The flower of mine affected heart, 
Whose sweetness doth excelle : 
My royal Rose, a thousand times 55 

I bid thee nowe farwelle ! 
» 
For I must leave my fairest flower, 

My sweetest Rose, a space, 

And cross the seas to famous France, 

Proud rebelles to abase. 60 

But yet, my Rose, be sure thou shalt 

My coming shortlye see. 
And in my heart, when heiice I am. 

He beare my Rose with mee." 

When Rosamond, that ladye brighte, 65 

Did heare the king saye soe. 
The sorrowe of her grieved heart 

Her outward lookes did showe ; 

And from her cleare and crystall eyes 

The teares gusht out apace, 70 

Which like the silver-pearled dewe 
Ranne downe her comely face. 



FAIR ROSAMOND. 159 

Her lippes, erst like the corall redde, 

Did waxe both wan and pale, 
And for the sorrow she conceivde 75 

Her vitall spirits faile ; 

And falling downe all in a swoone 

Before king Henryes face, 
Full ofl he in his princelye armes 

Her bodye did embrace : 80 

And twentye times, with watery eyes, 

He kist her tender cheeke, 
Untill he had revivde againe 

Her senses milde and meeke. 

Why grieves my Rose, my sweetest Rose ? 85 

The king did often say. 
Because, quoth shee, to bloodye warres 

My lord must part awaye. 

But since your grace on forrayne coastes 

Amonge your foes unkinde 90 

Must goe to hazard life and limbe, 
Why should I staye behinde ? 

Nay rather, let me, like a page, 

Your sworde and target beare ; 
That on my breast the blowes may lighte, 95 

Which would offend you there. 



160 FAIR ROSAMOND. 

Or lett mee, in your royal tent, 

Prepare your bed at nighte, 
And with sweete baths refresh your grace, 

At your retume from fighte. 100 

So I your presence may enjoye 

No toil I will refuse : 
But wanting you, my life is death ; 

Nay, death lid rather eh use. 

" Content thy self, my dearest love ; 105 

Thy rest at home shall bee 
In Englandes sweet and pleasant isle ; 

For travell fits not thee. 

Faire ladies brooke not bloodye warres : 

Soft peace their sexe delightes ; 110 

* Not rugged campes, but courtlye bowers ; 
Gay feastes, not cruell fightes.' 

My Rose shall safely here abide. 

With musicke passe the daye ; 
Whilst I, amonge the piercing pikes, 115 

My foes seeke far awaye. 

My Rose shall shine in pearle, and golde. 

Whilst Ime in armour dighte ; 
Gay galliards here my love shall dance, 

Whilst I my foes goe fighte. 120 



FAIR ROSAMOND. 161 

And you, sir Thomas, whom 1 truste 

To bee ray loves defence ; 
Be careful! of my gallant Rose 

When I am parted hence." 

And therewithall he fetcht a sigh, 125 

As though his heart would breake : 

And Rosamonde, for very griefe, 
Not one plaine word could speake. 

And at their parting well they mighte 

In heart be grieved sore : 130 

After that daye faire Rosamonde 
The king did see no more. 

For when his grace had past the seas, 

And into France was gone ; 
With envious heart, queene Ellinor, 135 

To Woodstocke came anone. 

And forth she calls this trustye knighte, 

In an unhappy houre ; 
Who with his clue of twined thread, 

Came from this famous bower. 140 

• 

And when that they had wounded him, 

The queene this thread did gette, 
And wente where ladye Rosamonde 

Was like an angell sefte. 

VOL. II. M 



162 FAIR ROSAMOND. 

But when the queene with stedfast eye 145 

Beheld her beauteous face, 
She was amazed in her minde 

At her exceeding grace. 

Cast off from thee those robes, she said, 

That riche and costlye bee ; 150 

And drinke thou up this deadlye draught, 
Which I have brought to thee. 

Then presentlye upon her knees 

Sweet Rosamonde did falle ; 
And pardon of the queene she crav'd 155 

For her offences all. 

" Take pitty on my youthfull yeares, 

Faire Rosamonde did crye ; 
And lett mee not with poison stronge 

Enforced bee to dye. 160 

I will renounce my sinful! life. 

And in some cloyster bide ; 
Or else be banisht, if you please. 

To range the world soe wide. 

And for the fault which I have done, 165 

Though I was forc'd theretoe. 
Preserve my life, and punish mee 

As you thinke meet* to doe.*' 



FAIR ROSAMOND. 163 

And with these words, her lillie handes 

She wrunge full often there ; 170 

And downe along her lovely face 
Did trickle many a teare. 

But nothing could this furious queene 

Therewith appeased bee ; 
The cup of deadly e poyson stronge, 1 75 

As she knelt on her knee, 

She gave this comelye dame to drinke ; 

Who tooke it in her hand, 
And from her bended knee arose, 

And on her feet did stand : 180 

And casting up her eyes to heaven, 

Shee did for mercye calle ; 
And drinking up the poison stronge, 

Her life she lost withalle. 

And when that death through everye limbe 185 

Had showde its greatest spite, 
Her chiefest foes did plaine confesse 

Shee was a glorious wight. 

Her body then they did entomb, 

When life was fled away, 190 

At Godstowe, neare to Oxford towne, 

As may be scene this day. 

M 2 



164 QUi^EN Eleanor's confession. 



VIII. 

" Eleanor, the daughter and heiress of William Duke of 
Guienne, and Count of Foictou, had been married sixteen 
years to Louis VII. King of France, and had attended 
him in a croisade, which that monarcK commanded against 
the infidels ; but having lost the affections of her hus- 
band, and even fallen under some suspicions of gallantry 
with a handsome Saracen, Louis, more delicate than 
politic, procured a divorce from her, and restored her 
those rich provinces which, by her marriage, she had 
annexed to the crown of France. The young Count of 
Anjoo, afterwards Henry II. King of England, though at 
that time but in his nineteenth year, neither discouraged 
by the disparity of age, nor by the reports of Eleanor's 
gallantry, made such successful courtship to that princess, 
that he married her six weeks after her divorce, and got 
possession of all her dominionis as a dowry. A marriage 
thus founded upon interest was not likely to be Yery 
happy : it happened accordingly. Eleanor, who had dis- 
gusted her first husband by her gallantries, was no less 
offensive to her second by her jealousy : thus carrying to 
extremity, in the different parts of her life, every circum- 
stance of female weakness. She had several sons by 
Henry, whom she spirited up to rebel against him ; and 
endeavouring to escape to them disguised in man's 
apparel in 1173, she was discovered and thrown into a 
confinement, which seems to have continued till the 
death of her husband in 1 189. She however survived 
him many years : dying in 1204, in the sixth year of the 
reign of her youngest son, John." See Hume*s History, 
4to, vol. i. pp. 260. S07. Speed, Stow, &c. 

It is needless to observe, that the following ballad 



^UEEN Eleanor's confession. 165 

(given, with some corrections, from an old printed copy) 
is altogether fabulous : whatever gallantries Eleanor en- 
couraged in the time of her first husband, none are im- 
puted to her in that of her second. 



Queen E Elianor was a si eke wom^n, 

And afraid that she should dye : 
Then she sent for two fryars of France 

To speke with her speedilye. 

The king calld downe his nobles all, 5 

By one, by two, by three ; 
** Earl marshall, He go shrive the queene, 

And thou shalt wend with mee." 

A boone, a boone ; quoth earl marshall. 

And- fell on his bended Cnee ; 1 

That whatsoever queene Elianor saye. 
No harme therof may bee. 

He pawne my landes, the king then cryd, 

My sceptre, crowne, and all. 
That whatsoere queen Elianor sayes 15 

No harme thereof shall fall. 

Do thou put on a fryars coat, 

And He put on another ; 
And we will to queen Elianor goe 

Like fryar and his brother. 20 



166 QUEEN Eleanor's confession. 

Thus both attired then they goe : 

When they came to Whitehall, 
The bells did ring, and the quiristers sing, 

And the torches did lighte them all. 

When that they came before the queene 25 

They fell on their bended knee ; i 
A boone, a boone, our gracious queene, 

That you sent so hastilee. 

Are you two fryars of France, she sayd. 

As I suppose you bee? 30 

But if you are two Englishe fryars. 
You shall hang on the gallowes tree; 

We are two fryars of France, they sayd. 

As you suppose we bee. 
We have not been at any masse 35 

Sith we came from the sea. 

The first vile thing that ever I did 

I will to you unfolde ; 
Earl marshall had my maidenhed, 

Beneath this cloth of golde. 40 

Thats a vile sinne, then sayd the king ; 

May God forgive it thee ! 
Amen, amen, quoth earl marshall ; 

With a heavye heart spake hee. 



QUBEN Eleanor's confession* 167 

The next vile thing that ever I did, 45 

To you He not denye, 
I made a boxe of poyson strongs 

To poison king Henrye. 

Thats a vile sinne, then sayd the king, 

May God forgive it thee I 50 

Amen, amen, quoth earl marshall ; 
And I wish it so may bee. 

The next vile thing that ever I did, 

To you I will discover ; 
I poysoned fair Rosamonde, 55 

All in fair Woodstocke bower. 

Thats a vile sinne, then sayd the king ; 

May God forgive it thee ! 
Amen, amen, quoth earl marshall ; 

And I wish it so may bee. 60 

Do you see yonders little boye, 

A tossing of the balle ? 
That is earl marshalls eldest sonnci 

And I love him the best of all. 

Do you see yonders little boye, 65 

A catching of the balle ? 

Ver. 63, 67. She means that the eldest of these two was by the 
earl marshall, the youngest by the king. 



168 QUEEN Eleanor's confession. 

That is king Henryes youngest sonne, 
And I love him the worst of all. 

His head is fashyon'd like a bull ; 

His nose is like a boare. 70 

No matter for that, king Henrye cryd, 

I love him the better therfore. 

The king pulled off his fryars coate, 

And appeared all in redde : 
She shrieked, and cryd, and wrung her hands, 75 

And sayd she was betrayde. 

The king lookt over his left shoulder. 

And a grimme look looked hee, 
Earl marshall, he sayd, but for my oathe, 

Or hanged thou shouldst bee. 80 



THE STURDY ROCK. 169 



IX. 



This poem, subscribed M. T. [perhaps invertedly for T. 
Marshall^] is preserved in The Paradise ofdmntie Deviiei, 
The two first stanzas may be found accompanied with 
musical notes in "An howres recreation in musicke, &c. 
by Richard Alison, Lond. 1606, 4to :*' usually bound up 
with three or four sets of ** Madrigals set to music by 
Tho. Weelkes, Lond. 1597, 1600, 1608, 4to." One of 
these madrigals is so complete an example of the Bathos, 
that I cannot forbear presenting it to the reader. 

Thule, the period of coflmographie, 
Doth yaunt of Hecla, whose sulphareous fira 

Doth melt the frozen clime, and thaw the skie, 
Trinacrian ^tna*s flames ascend not hier : 

These things seeme wondrous, yet more wondrous I, 

Whose heart with feare doth freeze, with love doth fry. 

The Andelusian merchant, that retumes 

Laden with cntchinele and china dishes, 
Reports in Spaine, how strangely Fogo bumes 

Amidst an ocean full of flying fishes : 
These things seeme wondrous, yet more wondrous I, 
Whose heart with feare doth freeze, with love doth fry. 

Mr. Weelkes seems to have been of opinion, with many 
of his brethren of later times, that nonsense was best 
adapted to display the powers of musical composure. 

1 Vide Athen. Ox. pp. 152. 316. 



170 THE STURDY ROCK* 

The sturdy rock for all his strength 

By raging seas is rent in twaine : 
The marble stone is pearst at length, 

With little drops of drizling rain : 
The oxe doth yeeld unto the yoke, 5 

The Steele obeyeth the hammer stroke. 

The stately stagge, that seemes so stout, 

By yalping hounds at bay is set : 
The swiftest bird, that flies about, 

Is caught at length in fowlers net: 10 

The greatest fish, in deepest brooke. 
Is soon deceived by subtill hooke. 

Yea man himselfe, unto whose will 

All things are bounden to obey, 
For all his wit and worthie skill, 15 

Doth fade at length, and fall away. 
There is nothing but time doeth waste ; 
The heavens, the earth consume at laiSt. 

But vertue sits triumphing still 

Upon the throne of glorious fame : 20 

Though spiteful death mans body kill, 

Yet hurts he not his vertuous name : 
By life or death what so betides, 
The state of vertue never slides. 



THE BEOGAR's daughter OF BEDNALI-GREEN. 171 



X. 



Cjbe KtsstLfa 9mfifittv o{ JSetrnalt'ClEfteen. 

This popular old ballad was written in the reign of Eli- 
zabeth, as appears not only from ver. 23, where the arms 
of England are called the *' Queenes armes,** but from its 
tunes being quoted in other old pieces, written in her 
time. See the ballad on Mary Ambree in this volume. 
The late Mr. Guthrie assured the Editor, that he had 
formerly seen another old song on the same subject, com- 
posed in a different measure from this ; which was truly 
beautiful, if we may judge from the only stanza he re- 
membered. In this it was said of the old beggar, that 
** down his neck 

his reverend lockes 

In comelje curies did wave ; 
And on his aged temples grewe 

The blossomes of the grave. 



n 



The following ballad is chiefly given from the Editor^s 
folio MS. compared with two ancient printed copies : the 
concluding stanzas, which contain the old beggar's disco- 
very of himself, are not, however, given from any of 
these, being very different from those of the vulgar 
ballad. Nor yet does the Editor offer them as genuine, 
but as a modern attempt to remove the absurdities and 
inconsistencies which so remarkably prevailed in this 
part of the song as it stood before : whereas, by the 
alteration of a few lines, the story is rendered much more 
affecting, and is reconciled to probability and true history. 
For this informs us, that at the decisive battle of Evesham, 



J 



172 THE beooar's daughter 

(foaght August 4, 1265,) when Simon de Mont fort, the 
great Earl of Leicester, was slain at the head of the 
barons, his eldest son Henry fell by his side, and, in con- 
sequence of that defeat, his whole family sunk for ever, 
the king bestowing their great honours and possessions 
on his second son, Edmund Earl of Lancaster. 



PART THE FIRST. 

Itt was a blind beggar, bad long lost his sight, 
He had a faire daughter ofbewty most bright ; 
And many a gallant brave suiter had sbee, 
For none was soe comelye as pretty Bessee. 

And though sbee was of favor most faire, 5 

Yett seeing sbee was but a poor beggars heyre, 
Of ancyent housekeepers despised was sbee, 
Whose sonnes came as suitors to prettye Bessee. 

Wherefore in great sorrow faire Bessy did say, 
Good father, and mother, let me goe away 10 

To seeke out my fortune, whatever itt bee. 
This suite then they granted to prettye Bessee. 

Then Bessy, that was of bewtye so bright. 
All cladd in gray russett, and late in the night 
From father and mother alone parted sbee; 15 

Who sighed and sobbed for prettye Bessee. 



OF BEDNALI-OREEN. 173 

Shee went till shee came to Stratford-le-Bow ; 
Then knew sbee not whither, nor which way to goe : 
With teares shee lamented her hard destinie, 
Soe sadd and soe heavy was pretty Bessee. 20 

Shee kept on her journey untill it was day, 
And went unto Rumford along the hye way ; 
Where at the Queenes armes entertained was shee : 
Soe faire and wel favoured was pretty Bessee. « 

Shee had not been there a month to an end, 25 

But master and mistres and all was her friend : 
And every brave gallant, that once did her see, 
Was straight-way enamourd of pretty Bessee. 

Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold, 
And in tHeir songs day lye her love was ex told ; 30 
Her beawtye was blazed in every degree ; 
Soe faire and soe comelye was pretty Bessee. 

The young men of Rumford in her had their joy ; 
Shee shewed herself curteous, and modestlye coye ; 
And at her commandment still wold they bee ; 35 
Soe fayre and so comelye was pretty Bessee. 

Foure suitors att once unto her did goe ; 

They craved her favor, but still she sayd noe ; 

I wold not wish gentles to marry with mee. 

Yett ever they honored prettye Bessee. 40 



174 THE beggar's daughter 

The first of them was a gallant young knight, 
And he came unto her disguisde in the night, 
The second a gentleman of good degree. 
Who wooed and sued for prettye Bessee. 

A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small, 
He was the third suiter, and proper withall : 46 

Her masters owne sonne the fourth man must bee, 
Who swore he would dye for pretty Bessee. 

And, if thou wilt marry with mee, quoth the knight. 
He make thee a ladye with joy and delight ; 50 

My hart's so inthralled by thy bewtie, 
That soone I shall dye for prettye Bessee. 

The gentleman sayd, Come, marry with mee. 
As fine as a ladye my Bessy shal bee : 
My life is distressed : O heare me, quoth hee ; 55 
And grant me thy love, my prettye Bessee. 

Let me bee thy husband, the merchant cold say. 
Thou shalt live in London both gallant and gay ; 
My shippes shall bring home rych Jewells for thee, 
And I will for ever love pretty Bessee. 60 

Then Bessy shee sighed, and thus shee did say. 
My father and mother I meane to obey ; 
First gett their good will, and be faithfull to mee. 
And you shall enjoye your prettye Bessee. 



t 



OF BEDNALL-6REBN. 175 

To every one this answer sbee made, 65 

Wherfore unto her they joyfullye sayd. 

This thing to fulfill we all doe agree ; 

But where dwells thy father, my prettye Bessee ? 

My father, shee said, is soone to be seene : 

The seely blind beggar of Bednall-greene, 70 

That daylye sits bulging for charitie, 

He is the good father of pretty. Bessee. 

His roarkes and his tokens are knowen very well ; 
He always is led with a dogg and a bell : 
A seely olde man, God knoweth, is bee, 75 

Yet bee is the father of pretty Bessee. 

Nay then, quoth the merchant, thou art not for mee : 
Nor, quoth the innholder, my wiffe tliou shalt bee : 
I lothe, sayd the gentle, a beggars degree, 
And therefore, adewe, my pretty Bessee ! 80 

Why then, quoth the knight, hap better or worse, 
I waighe not true love by the waight of the pursse. 
And bewtye is bewtye in every degree ; 
Then welcome unto me, my pretty Bessee. 

With thee to thy father forthwith I will goe. 85 

Nay soft, quoth his kinsmen, it must not be soe ; 
A poor b^i^ars daughter noe ladye shal bee. 
Then take thy adew of pretty Bessee. 



176 THE BEGGAa's DAUGHTER 

But soone after this, by breake of the day 
The knight had from Rumford stole Bessy away. 90 
The younge men of Rumford, as thicke might bee, 
Rode after to feitch againe pretty Bessee. 

As swifte as the winde to ryde they were seene, 
Until they came neare unto Bednall-greene ; 
And as the knight lighted most courteouslie, 95 

They all fought against him for pretty Bessee. 

But rescew came speedilye over the plaine, 

Or else the young knight for his love had been slaine. 

This fray being ended, then straitway he see 

His kinsmen come rayling at pretty Bessee. 100 

Then spake the blind beggar. Although I bee poore, 
Yett rayle not against my child at ray own doore : 
Though shee be not decked in velvett and pearle. 
Yet will I dropp angells with you for my girle. 

I 

And then, if my gold may better her birthe, 105 
And equall the gold that you lay on the earth. 
Then neyther rayle nor grudge you to see 
The blind beggars daughter a lady to bee. 

But first you shall promise, and have itt well knowne. 
The gold that you drop shall all be your owne. 110 
With that they replyed, Contented bee wee. 
Then here's, quoth the beggar, for pretty Bessee. 



OF BEDNALL OREEN* 177 

With that an angell he cast on the ground, 
And dropped in angels full three thousand ^ pound ; 
And oftentimes itt was proved most plaine, 115 

For the gentlemens one the beggar droppt twayne : 

Soe that the place, wherin they did sitt, 

With gold it was covered every whitt. 

The gentlemen then having dropt all their store, 

Sayd, Now, beggar, hold, for wee have noe more. 120 

Thou hast fulfilled thy promise arright. 
Then marry, quoth he, my girle to this knight ; 
And heere, added hee, I will now throwe you downe 
A hundred pounds more to buy her a gowne. 

The gentleman all, that this treasure had seene, 125 
Admired the beggar of Bednall-greene : 
And all those, that were her suitors before. 
Their fleshe for very anger they tore. 

Thus was &L\re Bessey matched to the knight, 

And then made a ladye in others despite : 130 

A fairer ladye there never was seene, 

Than the blind beggars daughter of Bednall-greene. 

But of their sumptuous marriage and feast. 
What brave lords and knights thither were prest, 

1 la the Editor's folio MS. it is 5002 
VOL. II. N 



178 THE bbgoae's daughter 

The SECOND fitt' shall set forth to your sight 135 
With marveilous pleasure, and wished delight 



PART THE SECOND. 

Off a blind beggars daughter most bright, 
That late was betrothed unto a younge knight ; 
All the discourse therof you did see ; 
But now comes the wedding of pretty Bessee. 

Within a gorgeous palace most brave, 5 

Adorned with all the cost they cold have. 
This wedding was kept most sumptuouslie. 
And all for the creditt of pretty Bessee. 

All kind of dainties, and delicates sweete 
Were bought for the banquet, as it was most meete ; 
Partridge, and plover, and venison most free, 11 
Against the brave wedding of pretty Bessee. 

This marriage through England was spread by report, 
Soe that a great number thereto did resort 
Of nobles and gentles in every degree ; 15 

And all for the fame of prettye Bessee. 

3 See an Essay on the word Fit at the end of the Second Part. 



OF BEDNALL-OREEN* 179 

To church then went this gallant younge knight ; 
His bride followed after, an angell most bright, 
With troopes of lady es, the like nere was seene 
As went with sweete Bessy of Bednall-greene. 20 

This marryage being solettipnized then. 
With musicke performed by the skilfullest men, 
The nobles and gentles sate downe at that tyde, 
Each one admiring the beautifull bryde. 

Now, afler the sumptuous dinner was done, 25 

To talke and to reason a number begunn : 
They talkt of the blind b^gars daughter most bright. 
And what with his daughter he gave to the knight. 

Then spake the nobles, '' Much marveil have wee. 
This jolly blind beggar wee cannot here see." 30 
My lords, quoth the bride, my father's so base. 
He is loth with his presence these states to disgrace. 

'' The prayse of a woman in questyon to bringe 
Before her own face, were a flattering thinge ; 
But wee thinke thy father's baseness, quoth they, 35 
Might by thy bewtye be cleane put awaye." 

They had noe sooner these pleasant words spoke, 
But in comes the beggar cladd in a silke cloke ; 
A &ire velvet capp, and a fether had hee, 
And now a rousicyaa forsooth he wold bee. 40 

N 2 



180 THE beooar's daughter 

He had a daintye lute under his arme, 
He touched the strings, which made such a charme, 
Saies, Please you to heare any musicke of mee, 
lie sing you a song of pretty Bessee. 

With that his lute he twanged straightway, 45 

And thereon hegann most sweetlye to play ; 
And after that lessons were playd two or three, 
He strayn'd out this song most delicatelie. 

*' A poore beggars daughter did dwell on a greene, 
Who for her fairenesse might well be a queene : 50 
A blithe bonny lasse, and a daintye was shee, 
And many one called her pretty Bessee. 

'' Her father hee had noe goods, nor noe land. 
But beggd for a penny all day with his hand ; 
And yett to her marriage hee gave thousands three % 
And still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessee. 56 

** And if any one here her berth doe disdaine. 
Her father is ready, with might and with maine, 
To proove shee is come of noble degree : 
Therfore never flout att prettye Bessee." 60 

With that the lords and the company e round 
With harty laughter were readye to swound ; 

s So the folio MS. 



OF BEDNALL-GREEN. 181 

Att last said tlie lords, Full well wee may see, 
The bride and the beggar's behoulden to thee. 

On this the bride all blushing did rise, 65 

The pearlie dropps standing within her faire eyes, 
O pardon my father, grave nobles, quoth shee. 
That throughe blind affection thus doteth on mee. 

If this be thy father, the nobles did say. 

Well may he be proud of this happy day ; 70 

Yett by his countenance well may wee see. 

His birth and his fortune did never agree : 

And therfore, blind man, we pray thee bewray, 
(And looke that the truth thou to us doe say) 
Thy birth and thy parentage, what itt may bee ; 75 
For the love that thou bearest to pretty Bessee. 

'* Then give me leave, nobles and gentles, each one. 
One song more to sing, and then I have done ; 
And if that itt hiay not winn good report. 
Then doe not give me a groat for my sport. 80 

** [Sir Simon de Montfort my subject shal bee ; 

Once chiefe of all the great barons was bee, 

Yet fortune so cruelle this lorde did abase. 

Now loste and forgotten are hee and his race. 84 

" When the barons in armes did king Henrye oppose, 
Sir Simon de Montfort their leader they chose ; 



182 THE beggar's daughter 

A leader of courage undaunted was hee, 
And ofb-times he made their enemyes flee. 

" At length in the battle on Eveshame plaine 
The barons were routed, and Montfort was slaine; 90 
Moste fatall that battel did prove unto thee, 
Thoughe thou wast not borne then, my prettye Bessee ! 

" Along with the nobles, that fell at that tyde, 
His eldest son Henry e, who £>ught by his side. 
Was fellde by a blowe, he receiyde in the fight ! 95 
A blowe that deprivde him for ever of sight. 

" Among the dead bodyes all lifelesse he laye, 
Till evening drewe on of the following daye, 
When by a yong ladye discoverd was hee ; 
And this was thy mother, my prettye Bessee I 100 

** A barons faire daughter stept forth in the nighte 
To search for her father, who fell in the fight, 
And seeing yong Monfort, where gasping he laye. 
Was moved with pitye, and brought him awaye. 104 

" In secrette she nurst him, and swaged his paine. 
While hethroughe the realme was beleevd to be slaine: 
At lengthe his faire bride she consented to bee, 
And made him glad father of prettye Bessee. 

*' And no we lest oure foes our lives sholde betraye, 
We clothed ourselves in beggars arraye ; 110 



OF BEDNALL-OREEN. 183 

Her jewelles sbee solde, and hither came wee : 
All our comfort and care was our prettye Bessee.] 

" And here have wee lived in fortunes despite, 
Thoughe poore, yet contented with humble delighte : 
Full forty winters thus have I beene 115 

A silly blind beggar of Bednall-greene. 

" And here, noble lordes, is ended the song 
Of one, that once to your own ranke did belong : 
And thus have you learned a secrette from mee. 
That ne'er had beene knowne, but for prettye Bessee." 

• 
Now when the faire company e everye one, 121 

Had heard the strange tale in the song he had showne, 
They all were amazed, as well they might bee. 
Both at the blinde beggar, and pretty Bessee. 

With that the faire bride they all did embrace, 125 
Saying, Sure thou art come of an honourable race. 
Thy father likewise is of noble degree. 
And thou art well worthy a lady to bee. 

Thus was the feast ended with joye and delighte, 
A bridegroome most happy then was the young 
knighte, 130 

In joy and felicitie long lived bee, 
All with his faire ladye, the pretty Bessee. 



184 THE beogar's daughter 

*»* The word fit, for part, often occurs in our ancient 
ballads and metrical romances ; which, being divided into 
several parts for the convenience of singing them at pub- 
lic entertainments, were in the intervals of the feast sung 
by Jitt, or intermissions. So Puttenham, in his Art of 
EngUth Poene, 1589, says, ^the Epithalamie was divided 
by breaches into three partes to serve for three several 
FITS, or times to be sung." — p. 41. 

From the same writer we learn some curious particulars 
relative to the state of ballad- singing in that age, that will 
throw light on the present subject : speaking of the quick 
returns of one manner of tune in the short measures used 
by common rhymers ; these, he says, " glut the eare, un- 
less it be in small and popular musickes» sung by these 
Cantabanqui, upon benches and barrels heads, where they 
have none other audience then boys or countrey fellowes, 
that passe by them in the streete ; or else by hBnd harpers^ 
or such like taverne Minstrels, that give a fit of mirth 
for a groatt . • . their matter being for the most part 
stories of old time, as the tale of Sir Topas, the reportes 
of Bevis of Southampton, Guy of Warwicke, Adam Bell 
and Clymme of the Clough, and such other old romances 
or historical rimes, made purposely for recreation of the 
common people at Christmasse dinners and brideales, and 
in tavernes and alehouses, and such other places of base 
resorte." — p. 69. 

Thb species of entertainment, which seems to have 
been handed down from the ancient bards, was in the 
time of Puttenham falling into neglect ; but that it was 
not, even then, wholly excluded more genteel assemblies, 
he gives us roonb to infer from another passage. " We 
ourselves," says thb courtly writer*, "have written for 
pleasure a little brief romance, or historical ditty, in the 

^ He was one of Q. Elizabeth^s gent pensionen, at a time when 
the whole band consisted of men of distinguished birth and fortune. 
Tide Ath. Ox. 



OF BEDNALL-QBEEN. 185 

English tong, of the Isle of Great Britaine, in short and 
long meetres, and by breaches or divisions [t. e, fitsJ to 
be more commodiously sung to the harpe in places of 
assembly, where the company shal be desirous to heare 
of old adyentures, and valiaunces of noble knights in 
times past, as are those of king Arthur and his knights of 
the round table, Sir Bevys of Southampton, Guy of War- 
wicke, and others like." — p. 3d. '' 

In more ancient times, no mnd scene of festivity was 
complete without one of these reciters to entertain the 
company with feats of arms and tales of knighthood, or, as 
one of these old minstrels says, in the beginning of an an- 
dent romance on Guy and Colbronde, in the Editor's folio 
MS. 

" When meate and drinke is great plentyd, 
And lords and ladyes still ml bee, 

And aitt and solace lythe ''; 
* Then itt is time for mee to speake. 
Of keene knightes, and kempds great. 
Such carping for to kjthe.** 

If we consider that a groat in the age of Elizabeth was 
more than equivalent to a shilling now, we shall find that 
the olcl harpers were even then, when their art was on 
the decline, upon a far more reputable footing than the 
ballad>singers of our time. The reciting of one such 
ballad as this of the Beggar of BedruUrgreen, in two parts, 
was rewarded with half a crown of our money. And 
that they made a yery respectable appearance, we may 
learn from the dress of the old beggar, in the preceding 
ballad, p. 179, where he comes into company in the habit 
and character of one of these minstrels, being not known 
to be the bride's father till after her speech, ver. 68. The 
exordium of his song, and his claiming a groat for his re- 
ward, yer. 80, are peculiarly characteristic of that pro- 
fession. Most of the old ballads begin in a pompous 

e Perhaps " blyiho.- 



J 






186 THE beggar's daughter 

manner, in order to captivate the attention of the au- 
dience, and induce them to purchase a recital of the song : 
and they seldom conclude the first part without large 
promises of still greater entertainment in the second. 
This was a necessary piece of art to incline the hearers 
to he at the expense of a second groat*s-worth. Many of 
the old romances extend to eight or nine tits, which 
would afford a considerable profit to the reciter. 

To return to the word fit ; it seems at one time to 
have peculiarly signified the pause, or breathing-time, 
between the several parts (answering to fasbds in the 
Visiofu of Pierce Plowman) : thus in the ancient ballad 
of Chevy-Chase, vol. i. p. 9, the first part ends with this 
line, 

" The first fit here I fynde :" 

t. e, here I come to the first pause or intermission. (See 
also' vol. i. p. 27.) By degrees it came to signify the 
whole part or division preceding the pause. (See the 
concluding verses of the First and Second Parts of 
«Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, and William of 
Cloudsly," in vol. i.) This sense it had obtained so 
early as the time of Chaucer ; who thus concludes the 
first part of his rhyme of Sir Thopas (writ in ridicule of 
the old ballad romances) : 

*' Lo I lordis mine, here is a fitt ; 
If ye well any more of it. 
To tell it woU I fonde." 

The word fit indeed appears originally to have signi- 
fied a poetic strain, verse, or poem ; for in these senses it 
is used by the Anglo-Saxon writers. Thus king Alfred 
in his Boetiui, having given a version of lib. 3, metr. 5, 
adds, )'ai% pirbom thaf thaf ptte apmsen hefbe, page 65, 
t. e, " when wisdom had sung these [fitts] verses." And 
in the Proem to the same book tor on ptze^ " put into 
[fitt] verse." So in Cedmon, p. 45, feonb on ptte, seems 
to mean " composed a song," or " poem.** The reader 



OF BEDN ALL-GREEN. 187 

will trace this old Saxon phrase in the application of the 
word /ofid, in the foregoing passage of Chaucer. See 
Glossary. 

Spenser has used the word fit to denote *' a strain of 
music" See his poem entitled, " Collin Clout's come 
home again/ where he says, 

'* Tbe Shepherd of the ocean [Sir Walt Raleigh] 
Provoked me to plaj some pleasant Frr. 

And when be heard the music which I made 
He found himself fiiU greatlje pleasM at it,** &c. 

It is also used in the old ballad of King Estmere, toL i. p. 
76, V. 243. 

From being applied to music, this word was easily 
transferred to dancing ; thus in the old play of ilMts 
Jttbntttti, (described in p. 121, and vol. i. p. 142,) Juven- 
tussays, 

** Bjr the masse I would fityne go daunce a FirrB.** 

And from being used as a part or division in a ballad, 
poem, &c., it is applied by Bale to a section or chapter in 
a book, though I believe in a sense of ridicule or sar- 
casm ; for thus he entitles two chapters of his ^glt0)^ 
l9oeaTSe0, part ii. viz.— fol. 49, " The fyrst Fttt of 
Anselme with Kynge Wyllyam Rufus." — fol. 50, " An 
other Fytt of Anselme with kynge Wjllyam Rufus.** 



188 FANCY AND DESIRE. 



XL 
iffmcji antf |9eKfre. 

BT THE EARL OF OXFORD. 

Edward Vere, Earl of Oxford, was in high fame for his 
poetical talents in the reign of Elizabeth : perhaps it is no 
ii\jury to his reputation, that few of his compositions are 
preserved for the inspection of impartial posterity. To 
gratify curiosity, we have inserted a sonnet of his, which 
is quoted with great encomiums for its ** ezcellencie and 
wit," in Puttenham's ArteofJSng, Poetie^, and found en- 
tire in the Garland of Good^wUL A few more of his son- 
nets (distinguished by the initial letters E. O.) may be 
seen in the Paradite of datntie Devises, One of these is 
entitled " The Compldnt of a Lover, wearing blacke and 
tawnie." The only lines in it worth notice are these : 

A crowne of bales shall that man * beare * 

Who triumphs over me ; 
For black and tawnie will I weare. 

Which mourning colours be. 

We find in Hall's Chronicle, that when Queen Catharine 
of Arragon died, Jan. 8, 1536, "Queen Anne [Bullen] 
ware tellowb for the mourning." And when this unfor- 
tunate princess lost her head. May 19, the same year, 
" on the ascension day following, the kyng for mourning 
ware whtte," fol. 227, 228. 

Edward, who was the 17th Earl of Oxford, of the 
family of Vere, succeeded his father in his title and 
honours in 1562, and died an aged man in 1604. See 
Mr. Walpole's Noble Authors, Athen. Ozon, &c. 

1 Lond. 1589, p. 172. 



FANCY AND DESIRE. 189 

Come hither shepherd's swayne : 

" Sir, what do you require ? " 
I praye thee, shewe to me thy name. 

" My name is Fond Desire." 

When wert thou borne, Desire ? 5 

" In pompe and pry me of may." 
By whom, sweet boy, wert thou begot ? 

'* By fond Conceit, men say." 

Tell me, who was thy nurse ? 

" Fresh Youth in sugred joy." 10 

What was thy meate and dayly foode ? 

" Sad sighes with great annoy." - 

What hadst thou then to drinke ? 

" Unsavoury lovers teares." 
What cradle wert thou rocked in ? 15 

*• In hope devoyde of feares." 

What lulld thee then asleepe ? 

** Sweete speech, which likes me best." 
Tell me, where is thy dwelling place ? 

" In gentle hartes I rest." 20 

What thing doth please thee most ? 

" To gaze on beautye stille." 
Whom dost thou thinke to be thy foe ? 

" Disdayn of my good wille." 



190 SIR ANDREW BARTON. 

Doth companye displease ? 25 

" Yes, surelye, many one." 
Where doth Desire delighte to live ? 

" He loves to live alone." 

Doth either tyme or age 

Bringe him unto decay e ? 30 

*' No, no, Desire both lives and dyes 

Ten thousand times a daye." 

Then, fond Desire, farewelle, ^ 

Thou art no mate for mee ; 
I sholde be lothe, methinkes, to dwelle 35 

With such a one as thee. 



XII. 
dtr ^tCtsvt\B Barton. 

I CANNOT give a better relation of the fact, which is the 
subject of the following ballad, than in an extract from 
the late Mr. Guthrie's Peerage; which was begun upon 
a very elegant plan, but never finished. Vol. t. 4to. p. 22. 
'* The transactions which did the greatest honour to 
the earl of Surrey ^ and his family at this time, [a.d. 151 1,] 
was their behaviour in the case of Barton, a Scotch sea- 
officer. This gentleman's father having suffered by sea 
from the Portuguese, he had obtained letters of marque 
for his two sons to make reprisals upon the- subjects of 
Portugal. It is extremely probable, that the court of 

^ Thomas Howard, afterwards qreated Dake of Norfolk. 



SIR ANDREW BARTON. 191 

Scotland granted these letters with no very honest in- 
tention. The council-board of England, at which the 
earl of Surrey held the chief place, was daily pestered 
with complaints from the sailors and merchants, that Bar- 
ton, who was called Sir Andrew Barton, under pretence 
of searching for Portuguese goods, interrupted the Eng« 
lish navigation. Henry's situation at that time rendered 
him backward from breaking with Scotland, so that their 
complaints were but coldly received. The earl of Surrey, 
however, could not smother his indignation, but gallantly 
declared at the council-board, that while he had an estate 
that could furnish out a ship, or a son that was capable of 
commanding one, the narrow seas should not be infested. 
** Sir Andrew Barton, who commanded the two Scotch 
ships, had the reputation of being one of the ablest sea- 
officers of his time. By his depredations, he had amassed 
great wealth, and his ships were very richly laden. 
Henry, notwithstanding his situation, could not refuse 
the generous offer made by the earl of Surrey. Two ships 
were immediately fitted out, and put to sea with letters 
of marque, under his two sons, Sir Thomas^ and Sir 
Edward Howard. After encountering a great deal of 
foul weather, Sir Thomas came up with the Lion, which 
was commanded by Sir Andrew Barton in person ; and 
Sir Edward came up with the Union, Barton's other 
ship [called by Hall the Bark of Scotland]. The en- 
gagement which ensued was extremely obstinate on both 
sides ; but at last the fortune of the Howards prevailed. 
Sir Andrew was killed fighting bravely, and encouraging 
his men with his whistle, to hold out to the last ; and the 
two Scotch ships with their crews were carried into the 
river Thames. [Aug. 2, 1511.] 

' Called by old historians Lord Howard, afterwards created Earl 
of Surrey in his father^s lifetime. He was father of the poetical 
Earl of SuiTey. 



192 SIB ANDREW BARTON. 

" This exploit had the more merit, as the two English 
commanders were in a manner volunteers in the service, 
by their father's order. But it seems to have laid the 
foundation of Sir Edward's fortune ; for, on the 7th of 
April, 1512, the king constituted him (according to Dug- 
dale) admiral of England, Wales, &c. 

" King James ' insisted ' upon satisfaction for the death 
of Barton, and capture of his ship : ' though ' Henry had 
generously dismissed the crews, and even agreed that the 
parties accused might appear in his courts of admiralty by 
their attomics, to vindicate themselves.** This affair was 
in a great measure the cause of the battle of Fiodden, in 
which James IV. lost his life. 

In the following ballad will be found perhaps some few 
deviations from the truth of history: to atone for which, 
it has probably recorded many lesser facts, which history 
hath not condescended to relate. I take many of the 
little circumstances of the story to be real, because I find 
one of the most unlikely to be not very remote from the 
truth. In part ii. v. 156, it is said, that England had 
before ** but two ships of war.** Now the Great Harry 
had been built only seven years before, viz. in 1504; 
which '* was properly speaking the first ship in the Eng- 
lish navy. Before this period, when a prince wanted a 
fleet, he had no other expedient but hiring ships from the 
merchants.**— Hume. 

This ballad, which appears to have been written in the 
reign of Elizabeth, has received great improvements 
from the Editor's folio MS. wherein was an ancient copy, 
which, though very incorrect, seemed in many respects 
superior to the common ballad ; the latter being evidently 
modernized and abridged from it. The following text is 
however in some places amended and improved by the 
latter, (chiefly from a black-letter copy in the Fepys col» 
lection,) as also by conjecture. 



SIR AKBREW BARTON* 193 



THE FIRST PART. 

* When Flora with her fragrant flowers 

Bedeckt the earth so trim and gaye, 
And Neptune with his daintye showers 

Came to present the monthe of Maye';' 
King Henrye rode to take the ayre, 5 

Over the river of Thames past hee ; 
When eighty merchants of London came, 

And downe they knelt upon their knee. 

" O yee are welcome, rich merchants ; 

Good saylors, welcome unto mee." 10 

They swore by the rood, they were saylors good, 

But rich merchants they cold not bee : 
" To France nor Flanders dare we pass : 

Nor Bordeaux voyage dare we fare ; 
And all for a rover that lyes on the seas, 15 

Who robbs us of our merchant ware." 

King Henrye frownd, and turned him rounde, 
And swore by the Lord, that was mickle of might, 

'* I thought he had not beene in the world. 

Durst have wrought England such unright." 20 

The merchants sighed, and said, alas ! 
And thus they did their answer frame, 

Ve^. 16, 83, robber. MS. 
> From the pr. copy. 

VOL. II. O 



194 SIR ANDREW BARTON. 

He is a proud Scott, that robbs on the seas, 
And Sir Andrewe Barton is his name. 

The king lookt over his left shoulder, 25 

And an angrye look then looked hee : 
" Have I never a lorde in all my realme, 

Will feitch yond traytor unto mee ?" 
Yea, that dare I ; lord Howard sayes ; 

Yea, that dare I with heart and hand ; 30 

If it please your grace to give me leave, 

Myselfe wil be the only man. 

Thou art but yong ; the kyng replyed : 

Yond Scott hath numbred manye a yeare. 
" Trust me, my liege. He make him quail, 35 

Or before my prince I will never appeare." 
Then bowemen and gunners thou shalt have. 

And chuse them over my realme so free ; 
Besides good mariners, and shipp-boyes. 

To guide the great shipp on the sea. 40 

The first man, that lord Howard chose. 
Was the ablest gunner in all the realm, 

Thoughe he was threescore yeeres and ten ; 
Good Peter Simon was his name. 

Peter, sais hee, I must to the sea, 45 

To bring home a traytor live or dead : 

V. 29, lord Charles Howard. MS. 



SIR ANDREW BARTON. 195 

Before all others I have chosen thee ; 
Of a hundred gunners to be the head. 

If you, my lord, have chosen mee 

Of a hundred gunners to be the head, 50 

Then hang me up on your maine-mast tree, 

If I misse my marke one shilling bread ^. 
My lord then chose a boweman rare, 

* Whose active hands had gained fame ',' 
In Yorkshire was this gentleman borne, 55 

And William Horseley was his name '. 

Horseley, sayd he, I must with speede 

Go seeke a traytor on the sea. 
And now of a hundred bowemen brave 

To be the head I have chosen thee. 60 

If you, quoth bee, have chosen mee 

Of a hundred bowemen to be the head ; 
On your main-mast He hanged bee. 

If I miss twelvescore one penny bread. 

With pikes and gunnes, and bowemen bold, 65 
This noble Howard is gone to the sea ; 

W^ith a valyant heart and a pleasant cheare. 
Out at Thames mouth sayled he. 

* An old English word for breadth. '^ Pr. copy. 

^ Mr. Lambe, in his notes to the poem on the Battle of Flodden 
Fidd, contends that this expert bowman^s name was not Homdey, 
but Hustler^ of a family long seated near Stockton, in Cleveland, 
Yorkshire. Vide p. 5. 

o2 



19G SIR ANDREW BARTON. 

And days he scant had sayled three, 

Upon the ' voyage ' he tooke in hand, 70 

But there he mett with a nohle shipp, 

And stoutely made itt stay and stand. 

Thou must tell me, lord Howard said, 

Now who thou art, and what's thy name ; 
And shewe me where thy dwelling is : 75 

And whither bound, and whence thou came. 
My name is Henry Hunt, quoth hee 

With a heavye heart, and a carefuU mind ; 
I and my shipp doe both belong 

To the Newcastle, that stands upon Tyne. 80 

Hast thou not heard, nowe, Henrye Hunt, 

As thou hast sayled by daye and by night. 
Of a Scottish rover on the seas ; 

Men call him sir Andrew Barton, knight ? 
Then ever he sighed, and sayd alas ! 85 

With a grieved mind, and well away ! 
But over-well I knowe that wight, 

I was his prisoner yesterday. 

As I was sayling uppon the sea, 

A Burdeaux voyage for to fare ; 90 

To his hach-borde he clasped me. 

And robd me of all my merchant ware : 

V. 70, journey. MS. V. 91, The MS. ha« here arch- 

horde^ but in part ii. ver. 5, hachhord. 



SIR ANDREW BARTON. 197 

And roickle debts, God wot, I owe, 
And every man will have his owne ; 

And I am nowe to London bounde, 95 

Of our gracious king to beg a boone* 

That shall not need, lord Howard sais ; 

Lett me but once that robber see, 
For every penny tane thee froe 

It shall be doubled shillings three. 100 

Nowe God forefend, the merchant said, 

That you shold seek soe far amisse ! 
God keepe you out of that traitors hands ! 

Full litle ye wott what a man hee is. 

Hee is brasse within, and Steele without, 105 

With beames on his topcastle stronge ; 
And eighteen pieces of ordinance 

He carries on each side along : 
And he hath a pinnace deerlye dight, 

St. Andrewes crosse that is his guide ; 110 

His pinnace beareth ninescore men. 

And fifteen canons on each side. 

Were ye twentye shippes, and he but one ; 

I sweare by kirke, and bower, and hall ; 
He wold overcome them everye one, 115 

If once his beames they doe downe fall '. 

7 It should seem from hence, that before our marine artillery was 
brought to its present perfection, some naval commanders had 
recourse to instruments or machineb, similar in use, though per- 



198 SIR ANDREW BARTON. 

This is cold comfort, sais my lord, 

To Wellcome a stranger thus to the sea : 

Yet He bring him and his shipp to shore, 

Or to Scottland hee shall carrje mee. 120 

Then a noble gunner you must have, 

And he must aim well with his ee. 
And sinke his pinnace into the sea. 

Or else hee never orecome will bee : 
And if you chance his shipp to borde, 125 

This counsel I must give withall. 
Let no man to his topcastle goe 

To strive to let his beams downe fall. 

And seven pieces of ordinance, 

I pray your honour lend to mee, 1 30 

On each side of my shipp along. 

And I will lead you on the sea. 
A glasse He sett, that may be scene, 

Whether you sayle by day or night ; 134 

And to-raorrowe, I sweare, by nine of the clocke 

You shall meet with Sir Andrewe Barton knight. 

haps unlike in construction, to the heavy DotphinSf made of lead or 
iron, used by the ancient Greeks ; which they suspended from 
beams or yards fastened to the mast, and which they precipitately 
let fall on the enemy^s ships, in order to sink them, by beating 
holes through the bottoms of their undecked Triremes, or otherwise 
damaging them. These are mentioned by Thucydides, lib. vii. 
p. 256, ed. 1564, folio, and are more fully explained in Schefferi de 
MUUi& Navalt, lib. ii. cap. v. p. J 36, ed. 1653, 4to. 
N.B. It eyery where in the MS. seems to be written beames. 



SIR ANDREW BARTON. 199 



THE SECOND PART. 

The merchant sett my lorde a glasse 

Soe well apparent in his sight, 
And on the morrowe, hy nine of the clocke, 

He shewed hira Sir Andrewe Barton knight. 
His hachebord it was * gilt ' with gold, 5 

Soe deerlye dight it dazzled the ee : 
Nowe by my faith, lord Howarde sais, 

This is a gallant sight to see. 

Take in your ancyents, standards eke, 

So close that no man may them see ; 10 

And put me forth a white willowe wand. 

As merchants use to sayle the sea. 
But they stirred neither top, nor mast'; 

Stoutly they past Sir Andrew by. 
What English churles are yonder, he sayd, 15 

That can soe litle curtesye ? 

Now by the roode, three yeares and more 

I have been admirall over the sea ; 
And never an English nor Portingall 

Without my leave can passe this way. 20 

Then called he forth his stout pinnace ; 

** Fetch backe yond pedlars nowe to mee : 

v. 5, * bached with gold/ MS. ^ i,e. did not salute. 



200 SIR ANDREW BARTOK. 

I sweare by the masse, yon English Churles 
Shall all hang att my maine-mast tree." 

With that the pinnace itt shott off, 25 

Full well Lord Howard might it ken ; 
For itt stroke down my lord's fore mast, 

And killed fourteen of his men. 
Come hither, Simon, sayes my lord, 

Looke that thy word be true, thou said ; 30 
For at my maine-mast thou shalt hang. 

If thou misse thy marke one shilling bread. 

Simon was old, but his heart itt was bold, 

His ordinance he laid right lowe ; 
He put in chaine full nine yardes long, 35 

With other great shott lesse, and moe ; 
And he lette goe his great gunnes shott : 

Soe well he settled itt with his ee, 
The first sight that Sir Andrew sawe. 

He see his pinnace sunke in the sea. 40 

And when he saw his pinnace sunke. 
Lord, how his heart with rage did swell t 

** Nowe cutt my ropes, itt is time to be gon ; 
He fetch yond pedlars backe mysell." 

When my Lord sawe Sir Andrewe loose, 45 

Within his heart hee was full faine : 

y. 35, i. a. discharged chain-Bhot. 



SIR ANDREW BARTON. 201 

"Nowe spread your ancyents, strike up drummes, 
Sound all your trumpetts out amaine." 

Fight on, my men, Sir Andrewe sais, 

Weale howsoever this geere will sway ; 50 

Itt is my lord admirall of England, 

Is come to seeke mee on the sea. 
Simon had a sonne, who shott right well, 

That did Sir Andrew mickle scare ; 
In att his decke he gave a shott, 55 

Killed threescore of his men of warre. 

Then Henry e Hunt w^ rigour hott 

Came bravely on the other side, 
Soone he drove downe his fore-mast tree, 

And killed fourscore men beside* 60 

Nowe, out alas ! Sir Andrewe cryed, 

What may a man now thinke, or say ? 
Yonder merchant theefe, that pierceth mee. 

He was my prisoner yesterday. 

Come hither to me, thou Gordon good, 65 

That aye wast ready att my call ; 
I will give thee three hundred markes. 

If thou wilt let my beames downe fall. 
Lord Howard hee then calld in haste, 

" Horseley see thou be true in stead ; 70 

V. 67, 84, pounds. MS. 



202 SIR ANDREW BARTON. 

For thou shall at the maine-mast hang, 
If thou misse twelvescore one penny bread. 

Then Gordon swarred the maine-mast tree, 

He swarved it with might and maine ; 
But Horseley with a bearing arrowe, 75 

Stroke the Gordon through the braine ; 
And he fell unto the baches again, 

And sore his deadlye wounde did bleed : 
Then word went through Sir Andrews men. 

How that the Gordon bee was dead. 80 

Come hither to mee, James Hambilton, 

Thou art my only sisters sonne. 
If thou wilt let my beames downe fall. 

Six hundred nobles thou hast wonne. 
With that he swarved the maine-mast tree, 85 

He swarved it with nimble art ; 
But Horseley with a broad arrowe 

Pierced the Hambilton thorough the heart : 

And downe he fell upon the deck, 

That with his blood did streame amaine : 90 
Then every Scott cryed. Well-away ! 

Alas a comelye youth is slaine ! 
All woe begone was Sir Andrew then. 

With griefe and rage his heart did swell : 

V. 75, bearinge, sc. that carries well, Sec, But see Gloss, vol. i 



SIR ANDREW BARTON. 203 

*' Go fetch me forth my armour of proofe, 95 

For I will to the topcastle mysell." 

*' Goe fetch me forth my armour of proofe ; 

That gilded is with gold soe cleare : 
God he with my hrother John of Barton ! 

Against the Portingalls hee it ware ; 100 

And when he had on this armour of proofe, 

He was a gallant sight to see : 
Ah ! nere didst thou meet with living wight, 

My deere brother, could cope with thee.'* 

Come hither Horseley, sayes my lord, 105 

And looke your shaft that itt goe right. 
Shoot a goode shoote in time of need, 

And for it thou shalt be made a knight. 
He shoot my best, quoth Horseley then. 

Your honour shall see, with might and maine ; 
But if I were hanged at your maine-mast. 111 

I have DOW left but arrowes twaine. 

Sir Andrew he did swarve the tree, 

With right good will he swarved then : 
Upon his breast did Horseley hitt, 115 

But the arrow bounded back agen. 
Then Horseley spyed a privye place 

With a perfect eye in a secrette part ; 
Under the spole of his right arme 

He smote Sir Andrew to the heart. 120 



204 SIR ANDREW BARTON* 

" Fight on, my men, Sir Andrew sayes, 

A little Ime hurt, but yett not slaine ; 
lie but lye downe and bleede a while. 

And then lie rise and fight againe. 
Fight on, my men, Sir Andrew sayes, 125 

And never flinche before the foe ; 
And stand fast by St. Andrewes crosse 

Untill you hear my whistle blowe." 



They never heard his whistle blow,- 



Which made their hearts waxe sore adread : 130 
Then Horseley sayd. Aboard, my lord. 

For well I wott. Sir Andrew's dead. 
They boarded then his noble shipp. 

They boarded it with might and maine ; 
Eighteen score Scots alive they found, 135 

The rest were either maimed or slaine. 

Lord Howard tooke a sword in hand, 

And off he smote Sir Andrewes head, 
** I must have left England many a daye. 

If thou wert alive as thou art dead." 140 

He caused his body to be cast 

Over the hatchbord into the sea. 
And about his middle three hundred crownes : 

" Wherever thou land this will bury thee." 

Thus from the warres lord Howard came, 145 
And backe he sayled ore the maine, 



SIR ANDREW BARTON. 205 

With mickle joy and triumphing 
Into Thames mouth he came againe. 

Lord Howard then a letter wrote, 

And sealed it with seale and ring ; 150 

" Such a noble prize have I brought to your grace, 
As never did subject to a king : 

*' Sir Andrewes shipp I bring with mee ; 

A braver shipp was never none : 
No we hath your grace two shipps of warr, 155 

Before in England was but one." 
King Henryes grace with royall cheere 

Welcomed the noble Howard home, 
And where, said he, is this rover stout, 

That i myselfe may give the doome ? 160 

" The rover, he is safe, my leige, 

Full many a fadom in the sea ; 
If he were alive as he is dead, 

I must have lefl England many a day ; 
And your grace may thank four men i'the ship 165 

For the victory wee have wonne. 
These are William Horseley, Henry Hunt, 

And Peter Simon, and his sonne." 

To Henry Hunt, the king then sayd. 

In lieu of what was from thee tane, 170 

A noble a day now thou shalt have, 

Sir Andrewes jewels and his chayne. 



206 SIR ANDREW BARTOK. 

And Horseley thou shalt be a knight, 
And lands and livings shalt have store ; 

Howard shall be erle Surrye hight, 175 

As Howards erst have beene before. 

Nowe, Peter Simon, thou art old, 

I will maintaine thee and thy sonne : 
And the men shall have five hundred markes 

For the good service they have done. 180 

Then in came the queene with ladyes fair 

To see Sir Andrewe Barton knight : 
They weend that hee were brought on shore, 

And thought to have seen a gallant sight. 

But when they see his deadlye face, 185 

And eyes soe hollow in his head, 
I wold give, quoth the king, a thousand markes, 

This man were alive as hee is dead : 
Yett for the manfuU part hee playd, 

Which fought soe well with heart and hand, 190 
His men shall have twelvepence a day, 

Till they come to my brother kings high land. 

* * 
* 

y. 175, 6, • . . Erie of Nottingham, And soe was never, &e. MS. 



LADT ANNE BOTHWELL S LAMENT. 



207 



XIII. 
A SCOTTISH SONG. 

The subject of this pathetic ballad the Editor once 
thought might possibly relate to the Earl of BothwelU 
and hb desertion of hb wife, Lady Jean Gordon, to make 
room for his marriage with the Queen of Scots : but thb 
opinion he now believes to be groundless ; indeed Earl 
Bothwell's age, who was upwards of 60 at the time of 
that marriage, renders it unlikely that he should be the 
object of so warm a passion as this elegy supposes. He 
has been since informed, that it entirely refers to a pri- 
vate story : A young lady of the name of Both well, or 
rather Boswell, haying been, together with her child, 
deserted by her husband or lover, composed these affect- 
ing lines herself, which here are given from a copy in 
the Editor's folio MS., corrected by another in Allan 
Ramsay's Mucellany, 



Balow, my babe, lye still and sleipe f 
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe : 
If thoust be silent, Ise be glad, 
Thy maining maks my heart ful sad. 
Balow, my boy, thy mothers joy, 
Thy £ather breides me great annoy. 
Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe. 
It grieves me sair to see thee weepe. 



^ 



208 LADY ANNE BOTHWELL's LAMENT. 

Whan he began to court my luve, 

And with his sugred wordes^ to muve, 10 

His faynings fals, and flattering cheire 

To me that time did not appeire ; 

But now I see, most cruell hee 

Cares neither for my babe nor mee. 

Balow, &c. 

Lye still, my darling, sleipe a while, 15 

And when thou wakest, sweitly smile : 
But smile not, as thy fadier did, 
To cozen maids : nay God forbid I 
But yett I feire, thou wilt gae neire 
Thy fatheris hart, and face to beire, 20 

Balow, &c. 

I cannae chuse, but ever will 

Be luving to thy father still : 

Whair-eir he gae, whair-eir he ryde, 

My luve with him doth still abyde : 

In weil or wae, whair-eir he gae, 25 

Mine hart can neire depart him frae. 

Balow, &c. 



^ When vugar was first imported into Europe, it was a very 
great dainty ; and therefore the epithet sugred is used by all our 
old writers metaphorically, to express extreme and delicate sweet- 
ness. (See above p. 189, v. 10.) Sugar at present is cheap and 
common ; and therefore suggests now a coarse and vulgar idea. 



LADY ANNE BOTHWELl's LAMENT. 209 

But doe not, doe not, prettie mine, 

To faynings fals thine hart incline ; 

Be loyal to thy luver trew, 

And neyir change hir for a new : 30 

If gude or faire, of hir have care, 

For womens banning's wonderous sair. 

Balow, &c. 

Baime, sin thy cruel father is gane, 

Thy winsome smiles maun eise my paine ; 

My babe and I'll together live, 35 

He'll comfort me when cares doe grieve : 

My babe and I right saft will ly. 

And quite forgeit man's cruelty. 

Balow, &c. 

Fareweil, fareweil, thou falsest youth 

That evir kist a womans mouth ! 40 

I wish all maides be warnd by mee 

Nevir to trust man's curtesy ; 

For if we doe hot chance to bow, 

They'le use us then they care not how. 

Balow, my babe, ly stil, and sleipe, 45 

It grives me sair to see thee weipe. 



VOL. TI. 



• 
210 THE MURDER OF 



XIV. 



The catastrophe of Henry Stewart, Lord Darnley, the 
unfortunate husband of Mary Queen of Scots, is the sub- 
ject of this ballad. It is here related in that partial, im- 
perfect manner, in which such an event would naturally 
strike the subjects of another kingdom, of which he was a 
native. Henry appears to have been a vain, capricious, 
worthless young man, of weak understanding and disso- 
lute morals. But the beauty of his person, and the inex- 
perience of his youth, would dispose mankind to treat him 
with an indulgence, which the cruelty of his murder would 
afterwards convert into the most tender pity and regret ; 
and then imagination would not fail to adorn his memory 
with all those virtues he ought to have possessed. This 
will account for the extravagant eulogium bestowed upon 
him in the first stanza, &c. 

Henry Lord Darnley was the eldest son of the Earl of 
Lennox, by the Lady Margaret Douglas, niece of Henry 
VIII. and daughter of Margaret Queen of Scotland, by 
the Earl of Angus, whom that princess married after the 
death of James IV. Darnley, who had been born and 
educated in England, was but in his 21st year when he 
was murdered, Feb. 9, 1567-8. This crime was perpe- 
trated by the Earl of Bothwell, not out of respect to the 
memory of Riccio, but in order to pave the way for his 
own marriage with the queen. 

This ballad (printed, with a few corrections, from the 
Editor's folio MS.) seems to have been written soon after 
Mary's escape into England in 1568, see v. 65. It will 
be remembered at v. 5, that this princess was Queen- 
dowager of France, having been first married to Francis 
II., who died Dec. 4, 1560. 



THE KIKO OF SCOTS. 211 



Woe worth, woe worth thee, false Scotlande ! 

For thou hast ever wrought hy sleight ; 
The worthyest prince that ever was borne, 

You hanged under a cloud by night. 

The queene of France a letter wrote, 5 

And sealed itt with harte and ringe ; 

And bade him come Scotland within, 

And shee wold marry and crowne him kinge. 

To be a king is a pleasant thing, 

To bee a prince imto a peere : 10 

But you have heard, and soe have I too, 

A man may well buy gold too deare. 

There was an Italyan in that place. 
Was as well beloved as ever was hee. 

Lord David was his name, 15 

Chamberlaine to the queene was hee. 

If the king had risen forth of his place, 

He wold have sate him downe in the cheare, 

And tho itt beseemed him not so well, 
Altho the kinge had beene present there. 20 

Some lords in Scotlande waxed wroth. 
And quarrelled with him for the nonce ; 

Ver. 15, nc M& 
F 2 



212 THE MURDER OF 

I shall you tell how it befell, 

Twelve daggers were in him att once. 

When the queene saw her chamberlaine was slaine, 
For him her faire cheeks shee did weete, 2& 

And made a vowe for a yeare and a day 

The king and shee wold not come in one sheete. 

Then some of the lords they waxed wrothe, 
And made their vow all vehementlye ; 30 

For the death of the queenes chamberlaine, 
The king himselfe, how he shall dye. 

With gun-powder they strewed his roome, 
And layd greene rushes in his way : 

For the traitors thought that very night 35 

This worthye king for to betray. 

To bedd the king he made him bowne ; 

To take his rest was his desire ; 
He was noe sooner cast on sleepe, 

But his chamber was on a biasing fire. 40 

Up he lope, and the window brake, 

And hee had thirtye foote to fall ; 
Lord Bodwell kept a privy watch. 

Underneath his castle wall. 

Who have wee here ? lord Bodwell sayd : 45 

Now answer me, that I may know. 



TQE KING OF SCOTS. 213 

" King Henry the eighth my uncle was ; 
For his sweete sake some pitty show." 

Who have we here ? lord Bodwell sayd, 
Now answer me when I doe speake. 50 

" Ah, lord Bodwell, I know thee well ; 
Some pitty on me I pray thee take.'* 

He pitty thee as much, he sayd. 

And as much favor show to thee, 
As thou didst to the queenes chamberlaine, 55 

That day thou deemedst him to die '• 

Through halls and towers the king they ledd. 
Through towers and castles that were nye. 

Through an arbor into an orchard. 

There on a peare-tree hanged him hye. 60 

When the governor of Scotland heard 
How that the worthye king was slaine ; 

He pursued the queen so bitterlye, 

That in Scotland shee dare not remaine. 

But she is fledd into merry England, 65 

And here her residence hath taine ; 

And through the queene of Englands grace, 
In England now shee doth remaine. 

^ Pronounced after the northern manner dee. 



214 A SONNET 



XV. 

9 donnet is i&. (S;li\tiitfb. 

The following lines, if they display no rich vein of 
poetry, are yet so strongly characteristic of their great 
and spirited authoress, that the insertion of them will be 
pardoned. They are preserved in Puttenham's Arte of 
English PoeHe : a book in which are many sly addresses 
to the queen's foible of shining as a poetess. The extra- 
ordinary manner in which these verses are introduced, 
shows what kind of homage was exacted from the courtly 
writers of that age, viz. 

" I find," says this antiquated critic, ^' none example in 
English metre, so well maintaining this figure [Exargasiay 
or the Gorgeous, Lat. ExpolUio] as that dittie of her 
majesties owne making, passing sweete and harmonicall ; 
which figure beyng, as his very originall name purporteth, 
the most bewtifull and gorgeous of all others, it asketh in 
reason to be reserved for a last complement, and desci- 
phred by a ladies penne, herselfe beyng the most bewtifull, 
or rather bewtie of queenes *. And this was the occasion ; 
our soveraigne lady perceiving how the Scottish queenes 
residence within this realrae at so great libertie and ease 
(as were skarce meete for so great and dangerous a pry- 
soner) bred secret factions among her people, and made 
many of the nobilitie incline to favour her partie : some of 
them desirous of innovation in the state : others aspiring 
to greater fortunes by her libertie and life : the queene 
our soveraigne ladie, to declare that she was nothing igno- 
rant of those secret practizes, though she had long with 

1 She wu at this time near threescore. 



BT QUEEN ELIZABETH.' 215 

great wisdome and pacience dissembled it, writeth this 
dittie most sweet and sententious, not hiding from all such 
aspiring minds the danger of their ambition and dis- 
loyaltie : which afterwards fell out most truly by th' ex- 
emplary chastisement of sundry persons, who in favour of 
the said Scot. Qu. declining from her majestic, sought to 
interrupt the quiet of the realme by many evill and un- 
dutifuU practizes." 

This sonnet seems to have been composed in 1569, not 
long before the Duke of Norfolk, the Earls of Pembroke 
and Arundel, the Lord Lumley, Sir Nich. Throcmorton, 
and others, were taken into custody. See Hume, Rapin, 
&c. It was originally written in long lines, or Alexan- 
drines, each of which is here divided into two. 

The present edition is improved by some readings 
adopted from a copy printed in a collection from the 
papers of Sir John Harrington, intituled, Nug€B Antigua, 
Lond. 1769, 12mo, where the verses are accompanied 
with a very curious letter, in which this sonnet is said to 
be '* of her Highness own inditing .... My Lady Wil- 
loughby did covertly get it on her Majesties tablet, and 
had much hazzard in so doing ; for the Queen did find out 
the thief, and chid for her spreading evil bruit of her 
writing such toyes, when other matters did so occupy her 
employment at this time ; and was fearful of being thought 
too lightly of for so doing." ♦ ♦ * 



The doubt of future foes 

Exiles my present joy ; 
And wit me warnes to shun such snares, 

As threaten mine annoy. 

Yer. 1, dread, al. ed. 



216 A SONNET BY QUEEN ELIZABETH. 

For falshood now doth flow, 5 

And subjects faith doth ebbe : 
Which would not be, if reason ruPd, 

Or wisdome wove the webbe. 

But clowdes of joyes untried 

Do cloake aspiring mindes ; 10 

Which turn to raine of late repent. 

By course of changed windes. 

The toppe of hope supposed 

The roote of ruthe will be ; 
And frutelesse all their graffed guiles, 15 

As shortly all shall see. 

Then dazeld eyes with pride. 

Which great ambition blindes, 
Shal be unseeld by worthy wights, 

Whose foresight falshood finds. 20 

The daughter of debate ', 

That discord ay doth sowe, 
Shall reape no gaine where former rule 

Hath taught stil peace to growe. 

No forreine bannisht wight 25 

Shall ancre in this port ; 

V. 9, toyes. al. ed. 
* She evidently means here the Queen of Scots. 



KINO OF SCOTS AND ANDREW BROWNE. 217 

Our realme it brookes no strangers force, 
Let them elsewhere resort. 

Our rusty sworde with rest 

Shall first his edge employ, 30 

To poll the toppes, that seeke such change, 

Or gape for such like joy. 

t+t 



*«* I cannot help subjoining to the above sonnet an- 
other distich of Elizabeth's, preserved by Puttenham, 
(page 197,) "which (says he) our soveraigne lady wrote 
in defiance of fortune." 

Never thinke yon, Fortune can beare the sway, 
Where Yertue^s force can cause her to obay. 

The slightest effusion of such a mind deserves attention. 



XVI. 
ISfng oi ^toH antr 9titrrefa) Buofone. 

This ballad b a proof of the little intercourse that sub- 
sisted between the Scots and English before the accession 
of James I. to the crown of England. The tale which is 
here so circumstantially related, does not appear to have 
had the least foundation in history, but was probably 
built upon some confused hearsay report of the tumults 
in Scotland during the minority of that prince, and of the 
conspiracies formed by different factions to get possession 
of his person. It should seem^ from ver. 97, to have 



218 KING OF SCOTS 

been written daring the regency, or at least before the 
death, of the Earl of Morton, who was condemned and 
executed, June 2, 1581, when James was in his 15th year. 

The original copy (preserved in the Archives of the 
Antiquarian Society, London,) is entitled," A new Ballad, 
declaring the great treason conspired against the young 
King of Scots, and how one Andrew Browne, an English- 
man, which was the king's chamberlaine, prevented the 
same. To the tune of MUfield, or els to Cheen Sleeves^ 
At the end is subjoined the name of the author, W. El- 
derton. ** Imprinted at London for Yarathe James, 
dwelling in Newgate Market, over against Ch. Church," 
in black-letter, folio. 

This Elderton, who had been originally an attorney in 
the sherifis' courts of London, and afterwards (if we may 
believe Oldys) a comedian, was a facetious fuddling com- 
panion, whose tippling and rhymes rendered him famous 
among his contemporaries. He was author of many 
popular songs and ballads ; and probably other pieces in 
these volumes, besides the following, are of his composing. 
He is believed to have &llen a victim to his bottle before 
the year 1592. His epitaph has been recorded by Cam- 
den, and translated by Oldys. 

HIC SITUS EST SITIENS, ATQUB EBRIUS BLDERT0NU8, 
QUID DICO HIC SITUS EST? HIC POTIUS 8ITIS EST. 

Dead drunk here Elderton doth lie ; 
Dea4 as he is, he still is dry : 
So of him it may well be said. 
Here he, but not is thirst, is laid. 

See Stow's Lond. [Guild-hall.] — Biogr. Brit. [Drayton, 
by Oldys, Note B.]— Ath. Ox. — Camden's Remains. — 
The Exale-tation of Ale, among Beaumont's Poems, 8vo, 
1653. 



AND ANDREW BROWNE. 219 

* Out atas ! ' what a ^efe is this 

That princes subjects cannot be true, 
But still the devill hath some of his, 

Will play their parts whatsoever ensue ; 
Forgetting what a grievous thing 5 

It is to offend the anointed king ? 

Alas for woe, why should it be so. 
This makes a sorrowful heigh ho. 

In Scotland is a bonnie kinge. 

As proper a youth as neede to be, 10 

Well given to every happy thing. 

That can be in a kinge to see : 
Yet that unluckie country still, 
Hath people given to craflie will. 

Alas for woe, &c. 15 

On Whitsun eve it so befell, 

A posset was made to give the king. 

Whereof his ladie nurse hard tell. 
And that it was a poysoned thing : . 

She cryed, and called piteouslie ; 20 

Now help, or els the king shall die ! 
Alas for woe, &c. 

One Browne, that was an English man, 

And hard the ladies piteous crye, 
Out with his sword, and bestir'd him than, 25 

Out of the doores in haste to flie; 



220 KINO OF SCOTS 

But all the doores were made so fast, * 
Out of a window he got at last. 
Alas for woe, &c. 

He met the bishop qoming fast, 30 

Having the posset in his hande : 
The sight of Browne made him aghast, 

Who bad him stoutly staie and stand. 
With him were two that ranne awa. 
For feare that Browne would make a fray. 35 
Alas for woe, &c. 

Bishop, quoth Browne, what hast thou there ? 

Nothing at all, my friend, sayde he ; 
But a posset to make the king good cheere. 

Is it so ? sayd Browne, that will I see. 40 

First I will have thyself begin. 
Before thou go any further in ; 

Be it weale or woe, it shall be so, 
This makes a sorrowful heigh ho. 

The Bishop sayde, Browne I doo know, 45 

Thou art a young man poore and bare ; 
Livings on thee I will bestowe : 

Let me go on, take thou no care. 
No, no, quoth Browne, I will not be 
A traitour for all Christiantie : 50 

Happe well or woe, it shall be so, 
Drink now with a sorrowful], &c. 



AND ANDREW BROWNE. 221 

The bishop dranke, and by and by 

His belly burst and he fell downe : 
A just rewarde for his traitery* 55 

This was a posset indeed, quoth Brown ! 
He serched the bishop, and found the keyes, 
To come to the kinge when he did please. 
Alas for woe, &c. 

As soon as the king got word of this, 60 

He humbly fell uppon his knee. 
And praysed God that he did misse 

To tast of that extremity : 
For that he did perceive and know, 
His clergie would betray him so : 65 

Alas for woe, &c. 

Alas, he said, unhappie realme. 

My &ther, and grandfather slaine : 
My mother banished, O extreame ! 

Unhappy fate, and bitter bayne ! 70 

And now like treason wrought for me, 
What more unhappie realme can be ! 
Alas for woe, &c. 

The king did call his nurse to his grace. 

And gave her twenty poundes a yeere ; 75 

Yer. 67. His father was Henry Lord Damley. His grand&ther, 
the old Earl of Lenox, regent of Scotland, and father of Lord 
Darnley, was murdered at Stirling, Sept. 5, 157L 



222 KING OF SCOTS AND ANDREW BROWNE. 

And tnistie Browne too in like case, 

He knighted him with gallant geere : 
And gave him ' lands and livings great,' 
For dooing such a manly feat, 

As he did showe, to the bishop's woe, 80 
Which made, &c. 

When all this treason done and past, 

Tooke not effect of tray tery ; 
Another treason at the last, 

They sought against his majestie : 85 

How they might make their kinge away, 
By a privie banket on a daye. 
Alas for woe, &c. 

* Another time' to sell the king 

Beyonde the seas they had decreede : 90 

Three noble Earles heard of this thing. 

And did prevent the same with speede. 
For a letter came, with such a charme. 
That they should doo their king no harme : 

For further woe, if they did soe, 95 

Would make a sorrowful heigh hoe. 

The Earle Mourton told the Douglas then. 
Take heede you do not offend the king ; 

But shew yourselves like honest men 

Obediently in every thing : 100 



THE EARL OF MURRAY. 223 

For his godmother ' will not see 
Her noble childe misus'd to be 

With any woe ; for if it be so, 

She will make, &c« 

God graunt all subjects may be true, 105 

In England, Scotland, every where : 
That no such daunger may ensue. 

To put the prince or state in feare : 
That God the highest king may see 
Obedience as it ought to be, 110 

In wealth or woe, God graunt it be so 
To avoide the sorrowful heigh ho. 

^ Queen Elizabeth. 



XVII. 

A SCOTTISH BONO. 

In December, 1591, Francis Stewart, Earl of Bothwell, 
had made an attempt to seize on the person of bis sove- 
reign, James VI., but being disappointed, had retired to- 
wards the north. The king unadvisedly gave a commis- 
sion to George Gordon, Earl of Huntley, to pursue Both- 
well and his followers with fire and sword. Huntley, 
under cover of executing that commission, took occasion 
to revenge a private quarrel he bad against James Stewart, 



224 THE EARL OF MURRAY* 

Earl of Murray, a relation of Bothweirs, In the night of 
Feb. 7, 1592, he beset Murray's house, burnt it to the 
ground, and slew Murray himself ; a young nobleman of 
the most promising virtues, and the very darling of the 
people. See Robertson's History. 

The present Lord Murray hath now in his^possession a 
picture of his ancestor naked and covered vtrith wounds, 
which had been carried about, according to the custom of 
that age, in order to inflame the populace to revenge his 
death. If this picture did not flatter, he well deserved the 
name of the bonny earl, for he is there represented as a 
tall and comely personage. It is a tradition in the family, 
that Gordon of Bucky gave him a wound in the face : 
Murray half expiring, said, " You hae spilt a better face 
than your awin." Upon this, Bucky, pointing his dagger 
at Huntley's breast, swore, '* You shall be as deep as I ;' 
and forced him to pierce the poor defenceless body. 

King James, who took no care to punish the murderers, 
is said by some to have privately countenanced and 
abetted them, being stimulated by jealousy for some in- 
discreet praises which his queen had too lavishly bestowed 
on this unfortunate youth. See the preface to the next 
ballad. See also Mr. Walpole's Catalogue of Royal Authors, 
vol. i. p. 42. 



»> 



Ye highlands, and ye lawlands, 
Oh ! quhair hae ye been ? 

They hae slaine the Earl of Murray, 
And hae laid him on the green. 

Now wae be to thee, Huntley ! 
And quhairfore did you sae ! 



THE EARL OF MURRAY. 225 

I bade you bring him wi' you, 
But forbade you him to slay. 

He was a braw gallant, 

And he rid at the ring ; 10 

And the bonny Earl of Murray, 

Oh ! he mi^ht hae been a king. 

He was a braw gallant. 

And he playd at the ba' ; 
And the bonny Earl of Murray 15 

Was the flower among them a*. 

He was a braw gallant. 

And he playd at the gluve ; 
And the bonny Earl of Murray, 

Oh ! he was the Queenes luve. 20 

Oh ! lang will his lady 

Luke owre the castle downe S 
Ere she see the Earl of Murray 

Cum sounding throw the towne. 

1 CasALe downe here has been thought to mean the CasUe of 
DoumBf a seat belonging to the family of Murray. 



VOL. 11. Q 



226 TOUNG WATERS. 



XVIIT. 

A SCOTTISH BALLAD. 

It has been suggested to the Editor, that this ballad 
covertly alludes to the indiscreet partiality which Queen 
Anne of Denmark is said to have shown for tho bonny 
Earl of Murray ; and which is supposed to have influenced 
the fate of that unhappy nobleman. Let the reader judge 
for himself. 

The following account of the murder is given by a con- 
temporary writer, and a person of credit, — Sir James 
Balfour, knight, Lyon King of Arms, whose MS. of the 
Annals of Scotland is in the Advocates' library at Edin- 
burgh. 

" The seventh of Febry, this zeire, 1592, the Earle of 
Murray was cruelly murthered by the Earle of Huntley 
at hi^r house in Dunibrissel in Fyffe-shyre, and with him 
Dunbar, sheriffe of Murray. It was given out and pub- 
lickly talkt, that the Earle of Huntley was only the in- 
strument of perpetrating this facte, to satisfie the King's 
jealousie of Murray, quhum the Queene, more rashely 
than wisely, some few days before had commendit in the 
King's hearing, with too many epithets of a proper and 
gallant man. The reasons of these surmises proceedit 
from a proclamatione of the Kings, the 18 of Marche 
following ; inhibiteine the zoung Earle of Murray to per- 
sue the Earle of Huntley, for his father's slaughter, in re- 
spect he being wardeit [imprisoned] in the castell of 
Blacknesse for the same murther, was willing to abide a 



TOUNG WATEB8. 227 

trjall, averring that he had done nothing but by the 
King's majesties commissione ; and was neither airt nor 
part in the murther K" 

The following ballad is here g^ven from a copy printed 
not long since at Glasgow, in one sheet, 8vo. The 
world was indebted for its publication to the Lady 
Jean Hume, sister to the Earl of Hume, who died at 
Gibraltar. 



About Zule, quhen the wind blew cule. 

And the round tables began, . 
A' ! there is cum to our kings court 

Mony a well-favourd man« 

The queen luikt owre the castle wa, 5 

Beheld baith dale and down, 
And then she saw zoung Waters 

Cum riding to the town. 

His footmen they did rin before. 

His horsemen rade behind, 10 

Ane mantel of the burning gowd 

Did keip him frae the wind. 

Gowden graith'd his horse before 

And siller shod behind. 
The horse zong Waters rade upon 1 5 

Was fleeter than the wind. 

^ This extract is copied from the Oriiical Review. 

Q 2 



228 TOUNO WATERS. 

But than spake a wylie lord, 

Unto the queen said he, 
O tell me qhua*s the fairest face 

Rides in the company. 20 

I*ve sene lord, and Fve sene laird, 

And knights of high degree ; 
Bot a fairer face than zoung Waters 

Mine eyne did never see. 

Out then spack the jealous king, 25 

(And an angry man was he) 
O, if he had been twice as fair, 

Zou micht have excepted me. 

Zou're neither laird nor lord, she says, 

Bot the king that wears the crown ; 30 

Theris not a knight in fair Scotland 
Bot to thee maun bow down. 

For a' that she could do or say, 

Appeasd he wad nae bee ; 
Bot for the words which she had said 35 

Zoung Waters he maun dee. 

They hae taen zoung Waters, and 

Put fetters to his feet ; 
They hae taen zoung Waters, and 

Thrown him in dungeon deep. 40 



YOUNG WATERS. 229 

Afl I have ridden thro' Stirling town 

In the wind both and the weit ; 
Bot I neir rade thro' Stirling town 

Wi fetters at my feet. 

Aft have I ridden thro' Stirling town 45 

In the wind both and the rain ; 
Bot I neir rade thro' Stirling town 

Neir to return again. 

They hae taen to the heiding-hill * 

His zoung son in his craddle, 50 

And they hae taen to the heiding-hill, 

His horse both and his saddle. 

They hae taen to the heiding-hill 

His lady fair to see. 
And for the words the Queen had spoke 55 

Zoung Waters he did dee. 

> Heiding-kUl ; t. e. heading [beheading] hill. The place of 
execution was anciently an artificial hillock. 



230 MART AMBREE. 



XIX. 

In the year 1584, the Spaniards, under the command of 
Alexander Farnese, Prince of Parma, began to gain great 
advantages in Flanders and Brabant, by recovering many 
strong-holds and cities from the Hollanders, as Ghent, 
(called then by the English Gaunt,) Antwerp, Mechlin, 
&c. See Stew's Annals, p. 711. Some attempt made, 
with the assistance of English volunteers, to retrieve the 
former of those places, probably gave occasion to this bal- 
lad. I can find no mention of our heroine in history, but 
the following rhymes rendered her famous among our 
poets. Ben Jonson often mentions her, and calls any 
remarkable virago by her name. See his Epicane^ first 
acted in 1609, act 4,sc.2 : his T<de of a Tub^ act 1, sc. 4 : 
and his masque entitled the Fortunate IsleSf 1626, where 
he quotes the very words of the ballad. 

Mary Ambree, 

(Who marched so free 
To the siege of Gaunt, 
And death could not daunt, 
As the ballad doth vaunt) 
Were a braver wight, &c. 

She is also mentioned in Fletcher's Scornful Lady, act 
5, iuhfinem. 

" — My large gentlewoman, my Mary Ambree, 

had I but seen into you, you should have had another 
bedfellow. ^ 

It is likewise evident, that she is the virago intended 
by Butler in Hudibras, (p. i. c. iii. v. 865,) by her being 



MART AMBREE. 231 

coupled with Joan d'Arc, the celebrated Fucelle 
d'Orleans. 

A bold virago stout and tall 

As Joan of France, or English MaXL 

This ballad is printed from a black-letter copy in the 
Pepys collection, improved from the Editor's folio MS. 
and by conjecture. The full title is, ** the valorous acts 
performed at Gaunt by the brave bonnie lass Mary 
Ambree, who in revenge of her lovers death did play her 
part most gallantly. The tune is The BJxnd Beggar, 



When captaines cours^ious, whom death cold not 

daunte, 
Did march to the siege of the citty of Gaunt, 
They mustred their souldiers by two and by three, 
And the formost in battle was Mary Ambree. 

When brave Sir John Major ^ was slaine in her sight, 
Who was her true lover, her joy, and delight, 6 

Because he was slaine most treacherouslie. 
Then vowd to revenge him Mary Ambree. 

She clothed herselfe from the top to the toe 
In buffe of the bravest, most seemelye to showe ; 10 
A faire shirt of male ' then slipped on shee ; 
Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree ? 

^ So MS. Serjeant Major, in p. c. 

' A peculiar kind of armour, composed of small rings of iron, and 
worn under the clothes. It is mentioned by Spenser, who speaks 



232 MART AMBREE. 

A helmett of proofe shee strait did provide, 
A strong arminge sword shee girt by her side, 
On her hand a goodly faire gauntiett put shee ; 15 
Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree ? 

Then tooke shee her sworde and her targett in hand. 
Bidding all such, as wold, bee of her band; 
To wayte on her person came thousand and three : 
Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree ? 20 

My soldiers, she saith, soe valiant and bold, 

Nowe followe your captaine, whom you doe beholde ; 

Still formost in battel myselfe will I bee : 

Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree ? 

Then cryed out her souldiers, and loude they did say, 
Soe well thou becomes t this gallant array, 26 

Thy harte and thy weapons soe well do agree, 
Noe mayden was ever like Mary Ambree. 

Shee cheared her souldiers, that foughten for life. 
With ancyent and standard, with drum and with fife, 30 
With brave clanging trumpetts, that sounded so free ; 
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree ? 

Before I will see the worst of you all 

To come into danger of death, or of thrall, 

of the Irish gallowglass, or foot-soldier, as *' armed in a long shirt 
of mayl." (View of the State of Ireland.) 



MART AMBREE. 233 

This hand and this life I will venture so free : 35 
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree ? 

Shee led upp her souldiers in battaile array, 
Gainst three times theyr number by breake of the 
Seven bowers in skirmish continued shee : [daye ; 
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree ? 40 

She filled the skyes with the smoke of her shott, 
And her enemyes bodyes with bullets soe hott ; 
For one of her owne men a score killed shee : 
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree ? 

And when her false gunner, to spoyle her intent, 45 
Away all her pellets and powder had sent, 
Straight with her keen weapon sheeslasht him in three: 
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree ? 

Being falselye betrayed for lucre of hyre. 
At length she was forced to make a retyre ; 50 

Then her souldiers into a strong castle drew shee : 
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree ? 

Her foes they besett her on everye side. 

As thinking close siege shee cold never abide ; 

To beate down the walles they all did decree : 55 

But stoutlye deffyd them brave Mary Ambree. 

Then tooke shee her sword and her targett in hand, 
And mounting the walls all undaunted did stand. 



234 MABT AMBBEE. 

There daring their captaines to match any three : 
O what a brave captaine was Mary Ambree ! 60 

Now saye, English captaine, what woldest thou give 
To ransome thy selfe, which else must not live ? 
Come yield thy selfe quicklye, or slaine thou must bee. 
Then smiled sweetlye brave Mary Ambree. . 

Ye captaines couragious, of valour so bold, 65 

Whom thinke you before you now you doe behold ? 
A knight, sir, of England, and captaine soe free. 
Who shortelye with us a prisoner must bee. 

No captaine of England ; behold in your sight 
Two brests in my bosome, and therfore no knight; 70 
Noe knight, sirs, of England, nor captaine you see. 
But a poor simple mayden, called Mary Ambree. 

But art thou a woman, as thou dost declare, 
Whose valor hath proved so undaunted in warre ? 
If England doth yield such brave maydens as thee, 75 
Full well may they conquer, fair M^y Ambree. 

The prince of Great Parma heard of her renowne 
Who long had advanced for Englands faire crowne ; 
llee wooed her and sued her his mistress to bee, 
And offerd rich presents to Mary Ambree. 80 

But this virtuous mayden despised them all. 
He nere sell my honour for purple nor pall : 



BRAVE LORD WILLOUOHBET. 235 

A mayden of England, sir, never will bee 

The whore of a monarcke, quoth Mary Ambree. 

Then to her owne country shee backe did retume, 85 
Still holding the foes of faire England in scome : 
Therfore English captaines of every degree 
Sing forth the brave valours of Mary Ambree. 



XX. 

SSrabe £orlr WOIottSJ^&ej;. 

Peregrine Bertie, Lord Willoughby of Eresby, had, in 
the year 1586, distiDguished himself at the siege of Zut- 
phen, in the Low Countries. He was, the year after, 
made general of the English forces in the United Pro- 
yinces, in room of the Earl of Leicester, who was re- 
called. This gave him an opportunity of signalizing his 
courage and military skill in several actions against the 
Spaniards. One of these, greatly exaggerated by popular 
report, is probably the subject of this old ballad, which, 
on account of its flattering encomiums on English valour, 
hath always been a favourite with the people. 
" My lord Willoughbie (says a contemporary writer) 

was one of the queenes best swordsmen : he was a 

great master of the art military I have heard it 

spoken, that had he not slighted the court, but applied 
himself to the queene, he might have enjoyed a plentifuU 
portion of her grace ; and it was his saying, and it did him 
no good, that he was none of the ReptUia ; intimating, 
that he could not creepe on the ground, and that the 



236 BRAVE LORD WILLOUOHBET. 

court was not hb element ; for, indeed, as he was a great 
souldier, so he was of suitable magnanimitie, and could 
not brooke the obsequiousnesse and assiduitie of the 
court." — (Naunton . ) 

Lord Willoughbie died in 1601. Both Norris and 
Turner were famous among the military men of that age. 

The subject of this ballad (which is printed from an old 
blackJetter copy, with some conjectural emendations,) 
may possibly receive illustration from what Chapman 
says, in the dedication to his version of Homer*s Frogi 
and Mice, concerning the brave and memorable reti*eat of 
Sir John Norris, with only 1000 men, through the whole 
Spanish army under the Duke of Parma, for three miles 
together. 



The fifteenth day of July, 

With glistering spear and shield, 
A famous fight in Flanders 

Was foughten in the field : 
The most couragious ofBcers 5 

Were English captains three ; 
But the bravest man in battel 

Was brave lord Willoughb^y. 

The next was captain Norris, 

A valiant man was hee: 10 

The other captain Turner, 

From field would never flee. 
With fifteen hundred fighting men, 

Alas ! there were no more. 



BRAVE LORD WILLOUOHBET. 237 

They fought with fourteen thousand then, 15 
Upon the bloody shore. 

Stand to it noble pikemen, 

And look you round about : 
And shoot you right you bow-men, 

And we will keep them out : 20 

You musquet and calliver men, 

Do you prove true to me, 
I'le be the formost man in fight. 

Says brave lord Willoughbey. 

And then the bloody enemy 25 

They fiercely did assail, 
And fought it out most furiously. 

Not doubting to prevail : 
The wounded men on both sides fell 

Most pitious for to see, 30 

Yet nothing could the courage quell 

Of brave lord Willoughbey. 

For seven hours to all mens view 

This fight endured sore. 
Until our men so feeble grew 35 

That they could fight no more ; 
And then upon dead horses 

Full savourly they eat. 
And drank the puddle water. 

They could no better get. 40 



238 BRAVE LORD WILLOUOHBET. 

When they had fed so freely, 

They kneeled on the ground, 
And praised God devoutly 

For the favour they had found ; 
And beating up their colours, 45 

The fight they did renew, 
And turning tow'rds the Spaniard, 

A thousand more they slew. 

The sharp steel-pointed arrows. 

And bullets thick did fly ; 50 

Then did our valiant soldiers 

Charge on most furiously ; 
Which made the Spaniards waver. 

They thought it best to flee. 
They fear*d the stout behaviour 55 

Of brave lord Willoughb^y. 

Then quoth the Spanish general. 

Come let us march away, 
I fear we shall be spoiled all 

If here we longer stay ; 60 

For yonder comes lord Willoughbey 

With courage fierce and fell, 
He will not give one inch of way 

For all the devils in hell. 

And then the fearful enemy 65 

Was quickly put to flight, 



BRAYB LORD WILLOUGHBET. 239 

Our men persued couragiously, 

And caught their forces quite ; 
But at last they gave a shout, 

Which ecchoed through the sky, 70 

God, and St. George for England ! 

The conquerers did cry. 

This news was brought to England 

With all the speed might be. 
And soon our gracious queen was told 75 

Of this same victory. 
O this is brave lord Willoughbey, 

My love that ever won, . 
Of all the lords of honour, 

'Tis he great deeds hath done. 80 

To the souldiers that were maimed. 

And wounded in the fray. 
The queen allowed a pension 

Of fifteen pence a day ; 
And from all costs and charges 85 

She quit and set them free : 
And this she did all for the sake 

Of brave lord Willoughbdy. 

Then courage, noble Englishmen, 

And never be dismaid : 90 

If that we be but one to ten, 

We will not be afraid 



240 VICTORIOUS MEN OF EARTH. 

To fight with foraign enemies, 

And set our nation free, 
And thus I end the bloody bput 95 

Of brave lord Willoughb^y. 



XXL 

This little moral sonnet hath such a pointed application 
to the heroes of the foregoing and following ballads, that 
I cannot help placing it here, though the date of its com- 
position is of a much later period. It is extracted from 
" Cupid and Death, a masque by J. S. [James Shirley] 
presented Mar. 26, 1653." London, printed 1653, 4to. 

Victorious men of earth, no more 
Proclaim how wide your empires are ; 

Though you binde in every shore. 
And your triumphs reach as far 

As night or day ; 5 

Yet you proud monarchs must obey. 

And mingle with forgotten ashes, when 

Death calls yee to the crowd of common men. 

Devouring famine, plague, and war, 
Each able to undo mankind, 10 



THE WINNING OF CALES. 241 

Death's servile emissaries are, 
Nor to these alone confined, 
He hath at will 
More quaint and subtle wayes to kill ; ' 

A smile or kiss, as he will use the art, 15 

Shall have the cunning skill to break a heart. 



XXII. 
Cj^e WSHnnin% o{ CaUi^. 

The subject of this ballad is the taking of the city of 
Cadiz, (called by our sailors corruptly Cales,') on June 21, 
1 596, in a descent made on the coast of Spain, under the 
command of the Lord Howard, admiral, and the Earl of 
Essex, general. 

The valour of Essex was not more distinguished on this 
occ^ion than his generosity : the town was carried sword 
in hand, but he stopped the slaughter as soon as possible, 
and treated his prisoners with the greatest humanity, and 
even affability and kindness. The English made a rich 
plunder in the city, but missed of a much richer, by the 
resolution which the duke of Medina, the Spanish admiral, 
took, of setting fire to the ships, in order to prevent their 
falling into the hands of the enemy. It was computed, 
that the loss which the Spaniards sustained from this en- 
terprise, amounted to twenty millions of ducats. See 
Hume's History. 

The Earl of Essex knighted on this occasion not fewer 
than sixty persons, which gave rise to the following 
sarcasm : 

VOL. II. R 



242 THE WINNING OF GALES. 

A gentleman of Wales, a knight of Cales, 

And a laird of the North country ; 
But a yeoman of Kent with his yearly rent 

Will buy them out all three. 

The ballad is printed, with some corrections, from the 
Editor's folio MS., and seems to have been composed by 
some person who was concerned in the expedition. Most 
of the circumstances related in it will be found supported 
bj history. 



LoNO the proud Spaniards had vaunted to conquer us, 

Threatning our country with fyer and sword ; 
Often preparing their navy most sumptuous 
With as great plenty as Spain could afford. 
Dub a duby dub a dub, thus strike their drums: 
Tantara, tantara, the Englishman comes. 6 

To the seas presentlye went our lord admiral, 
With knights couragious and captains full good ; 

The brave Earl of Essex, a prosperous general, 
With him prepared to pass the salt flood. 10 

Dub a dub, &c. 

At Plymouth speedilye, took they ship valiantlye. 

Braver ships never were seen under sayle. 
With their fair colours spread, and streamers ore their 
head. 
Now bragging Spaniards, take heed of your tayle, 15 
Dub a dub, &c. 



THE WINNING OF GALES. 243 

Unto Cales cunninglye, came we most speedilye, 
Where the kinges navy securelye did ryde ; 

Being upon their backs, piercing their butts of sacks, 
Ere any Spaniards our coming descryde. 20 

Dub a dub, &c. 

Great was the crying, the running, and ryding. 
Which at that season was made in that place ; 

The beacons were fyred, as need then required ; 
To hyde their great treasure they had little space. 25 
Dub a dub, &c. 

There you might see their ships, how they were fyred 
fast, 
And how their men drowned themselves in the sea; 
There might you hear them cry, wayle and weep 
piteously. 
When they saw no shift to scape thence away. 30 
Dub a dub, &c. 

The great St. Phillip, the pryde of the Spaniards, 
Was burnt to the bottom, and sunk in the sea ; 

But the St. Andrew, and eke the St. Matthew, 
Wee took in fight manfullye and brought away. 35 
Dub a dub, &c. 

The Earl of Essex most valiant and hardye, 
- With horsemen and footmen marched up to the 
town; 

R 2 



244 THE WINNING OF CAIES. 

• 

The Spanyards, which saw them, were greatly alarmed, 

Did fly for their savegard, and durst not comedown. 

Dub a dub, &c. 41 

Now, quoth the noble Earl, courage my soldiers all, 
Fight and be valiant, the spoil you shall have ; 

And be well rewarded all from the great to the small ; 
But looke that the women and children you save. 
Dub a dub, &c. 46 

The Spaniards at that sight, thinking it vain to fight, 
Hung upp flags of truce and yielded the towne ; 

Wee marched in presentlye, decking the walls on hye. 
With English colours which purchased renowne. 50 
Dub a dub, &c. 

Entering the houses then, of the most richest men, 
For gold and treasure we searched eche day ; 

In some places we did find, pyes baking lefl behind, 
Meate at fire rosting, and folkes run away. 55 
Dub a dub, &c. 

Full of rich merchandize, every shop catched our 
eyes, 
Damasks and sattens and velvets full fayre ; 
Which soldiers measured out by the length of their 
swords ; 
Of all commodities eche had a share. 60 

Dub a dub, &c. 



THE SPANISH LADy's LOVE. 245 

Thus Cales was taken, and our brave general 

March'd to the market-place, where he did stand : 

There many prisoners fell to our several shares, 
Many crav'd mercye, and mercye they fannd. 65 
Dub a dub, &c. 

When our brave General saw they delayed all, 

And wold not ransome their towne as diey said, 
With their fair wanscots, their presses and bedsteds. 
Their joint-stools and tables a fire we made ; 70 
And when the town burned all in flame. 
With tara, tantara, away wee all came. 



XXIII. 

€it i^miai %sCtsj^'s^ %oht. 

This beautiful old ballad most probably took its rise 
from one of these descents made on the Spanbh coasts in 
the time of Queen Elizabeth ; and in all likelihood from 
that which is celebrated in the foregoing ballad. 

It was a tradition in the West of England, that the per- 
son admired by the Spanish lady was a gentleman of the 
Popham family, and that her picture, with the pearl neck- 
lace mentioned in the ballad, was not many years ago 
preserved at Littlecot, near Hungerford, Wilts, the seat of 
that respectable family. 

Another tradition hath pointed out Sir Richard Levi- 
son, of Trentham, in Staffordshire, as the subject of this 
ballad ; who married Margaret, daughter of Charles Earl 



246 THE SPANISH LADY's LOVE. 

of Nottingham, and was eminently distinguished as a 
naval officer and commander in all the expeditions against 
the Spaniards in the latter end ,of Queen Elizabeth's 
reign, particularly in that to Cadiz in 1596, when he was 
aged 27. He died in 1605, and has a monument, with 
his ef^gy in brass, in Wolverhampton church. 

It is printed from an ancient black-letter copy, corrected 
in part by the Editor's folio MS. 



Will you hear a Spanish lady, 

How shee wooed an English man ? 
Garments gay as rich as may be 

Decked with jewels she had on. 
Of a comely countenance and grace was she, 5 

And by birth and parentage of high degree. 

As his prisoner there he kept her, 

In his hands her life did lye ; 
Cupid's bands did tye them faster 

By the liking of an eye. 10 

In his courteous company was all her joy, 
To favour him in any thing she was not coy. 

But at last there came commandment 

For to set the ladies free, 
With their jewels still adorned, 15 

None to do them injury. 
Then said this lady mild, Full woe is me ; 
O let me still sustain this kind captivity ! 



THE SPANISH LADY's LOVE. 24? 

Gallant captain, shew some pity 

To a ladye in distresse ; 20 

Leave me not within this city, 

For to dye in heavitiesse : 
Thou hast set this present day my body free, 
But my Tieart in prison still remains with thee. 

" How should'st thou, fair lady, love me, 25 

Whom thou knowst thy country's foe ? 

Thy faire wordes make me suspect thee : 
Serpents lie where flowers grow." 

All the harm I wishe to thee, most courteous knight, 

God grant the same upon my head may fully light. 

Blessed be the time and season, 31 

That you came on Spanish ground ; 
If our foes you may be termed, 

Gentle foes we have you found : 34 

With our city, you have won our hearts eche one. 
Then to your country bear away, that is your owne. 

** Rest you still, most gallant lady ; 

Rest you still, and weep no more ; 
Of fair lovers there is plenty, 

Spain doth yield a wonderous store.*' 40 

Spaniards fraught with jealousy we often find, 
But Englishmen through all tlie world are counted 
kind. 



248 THE SPANISH LADT's LOVE. 

Leave me not unto a Spaniard, 

You alone enjoy my heart ; 
I am lovely, young, and tender, 45 

Love is likewise my desert :* 
Still to serve thee day and night my mind is prest ; 
The wife of every Englishman is counted blest. 

" It wold be a shame, fair lady, 

For to bear a woman hence ; 50 

English soldiers never carry 

Any such without offence.*' 
ril quickly change myself, if it be so. 
And like a page He follow thee, where'er thou go. 

** I have neither gold nor silver 55 

To maintain thee in this case. 
And to travel is great charges. 

As you know in every place." 
My chains and jewels every one shal be thy own. 
And eke five hundred pounds ' in gold that lies un- 
known. 60 

" On the seas are many dangers, 

Many storms do there arise, 
Which wil be to ladies dreadful. 

And force tears from watery eyes." 

1 So the MS.— 10,000/. P. a 



THE SPANISH LADy's LOVE. 249 

Well in troth I shall endure extremity, 65 

For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee. 

*' Courteous ladye, leave this fancy, 
Here comes all that hreeds the strife ; 

I in England have already 

A sweet woman to my wife : 70 

I will not falsify my vow for gold nor gain. 

Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain.'* 

how happy is that woman 
That enjoys so true a friend ! 

Many happy days God send her ; 75 

Of my suit I make an end : 
On my knees I pardon crave for my offence, 
Which did from love and true affection first com- 
mence. 

Commend me to thy lovely lady. 

Bear to her this chain of gold ; 80 

And these bracelets for a token ; 

Grieving that I was so bold : 
All my jewels in like sort take thou with thee. 
For they are fitting for thy wife, but not for me. 

1 will spend my days in prayer, 85 

Love and all her laws defye ; 

Ver. 65, Well in worth. MS. V. 86, So the folio MS. 

Other editions read his laws. 



250 AROENTILE AND CUBAN. 

In a nunnery will I shroud mee 

Far from any companye : 
But ere my prayers have an end, be sure of this, 
To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss. 

Thus farewell, most gallant captain ! 91 

Farewell too my heart's content ! 
Count not Spanish ladies wanton. 

Though to thee my love was bent : 
Joy and true prosperity goe still with thee ! 95 

" The like fall ever to thy share, most fair ladie." 



XXIV. 



9rsentae antr Curan 

Is extracted from an aocient historical poem in thirteen 
books, entitled Albion's England, by William Warner; 
'* An author (says a former editor) only unhappy in the 
choice of his subject, and measure of his verse. His 
poem is an epitome of the British history, and written 
with g^eat learning, sense, and spirit ; in some places fine 
to an extraordinary degree, as I think will eminently 
appear in the ensuing episode [of ArgeniUe and Ctfroii,]— 
a tale full of beautiful incidents in the romantic taste, ex- 
tremely affecting, rich in ornament, wonderfully various 
in style ; and in short, one of the most beautiful pastorals 
I ever met with." — [Muses' Library, 1738, 8vo.] To bis 
merit nothing can be objected, unless perhaps an affected 



AROEKTILE AND CURAN. 251 

quaintness in some of his expressions, and an indelicacy in 
some of his pastoral images. 

Warner is said, by A, Wood S to have been a Warwick- 
shire man, and to have been educated in Oxford, at Mag- 
dalene-ball : as also in the latter part of his life to have 
been retained in the service of Henry Gary, Lord Huns- 
don, to whom he dedicates his poem. However that 
may have been, new light is thrown upon his history, and 
the time and manner of his death are now ascertsuned by 
the following extract from the parish register-book of 
Amwell, in Hertfordshire, which was obligingly commu- 
nicated to* the editor by Mr. Hoole, the very ingenious 
translator of Tasso/&c. 

[1608—1609.] ** Master William Warner, a man of good 
yeares and of honest reputation ; by his profession an 
Atturnye of the Common Pleas ; author of Albions Eng- 
land, diynge suddenly in the night in his bedde, without 
any former complaynt or sicknesse, on thursday night 
beeinge the 9th daye of March, was buried the satturday 
following, and lyeth in the church at the corner under 
the stone of Walter Ffader." 

•* Signed T i > H assa 11 Vicarius." 

Though now Warner is so seldom mentioned, his con- 
temporaries ranked him on a level with Spenser, and 
called them the Homer and Virgil of their age ^. But 
Warner rather resembled Ovid, whose Metamorphoses he 
seems to have taken for his model, having deduced a per- 
petual poem from the Deluge down to the era of Elizabeth, 
full of lively digressions and entertaining episodes. And 
though he is sometimes harsh, affected, and obscure, he 
often displays a most charming and pathetic simplicity s 
as where he describes Eleanor's harsh treatment of Rosa- 
mond: 

1 A then. Oxon.- > Ibid. 



252 ARGENTILE AKD CURAN. 

With that she duht her on the lippes 

So dyed douhle red : 
Hard was the heart that gave the hlow, 

Soft were those lippes that bled. 

The edition of Albion's England here followed, was 
printed in 4to, 1602 ; said in the title-page to have been 
" first penned and published by William Warner, and now 
revised and newly enlarged by the same author." The 
story of ArgentUe and Citran is, 1 believe* the poet's own 
invention ; it is not mentioned in any of our chronicles. It 
was, however, so much admired, that not many years after 
he published it, came out a larger poem on the 'same sub* 
ject in stanzas of six lines, entitled " The most pleasant 
and delightful historic of Curan a prince of Danske, and 
the fayre princesse Argentile, daughter and heyre to Adel- 
bright, sometime king of Northumberland, &c. by William 
Webster, London, 1617," in 8 sheets, 4to. An indiflPerent 
paraphrase of the following poem. This episode of War- 
ner's has also been altered into the common ballad of 
** the two young Princes on Salisbury Plain," which is 
chiefly composed of Warner's lines, with a few con- 
tractions and interpolations, but all greatly for the worse. 
See the collection of Historical Ballads, 1727, 8 vols. 
l2mo. 

Though here subdivided into stanzas, Warner's metre is 
the old-fashioned Alexandrine of fourteen syllables. The 
reader therefore must not expect to find the close of the 
stanzas consulted in the pauses. 



The Bruton's 'being' departed hence 
Seaven kingdoms here begonne, 

Where diversly in divers broyles 
The Saxons lost and wonne. 



AROENTILE AND CURAN. 253 

I 

iting Edel and king Adelbright 5 

In Diria jointly raigne ; 
In loyal concorde during life 

These kingly friends remaine. 

When Adelbright should leave his life, 
To Edel thus he sayes ; 10 

By those same bondes of happie love, 
That held us friends alwaies ; 

By our by-parted crowne, of which 

The moyetie is mine ; 
By God, to whom my soule must passe, 15 

And so in time may thine ; 

I pray thee, nay I conjure thee, 

To nourish, as thine owne, 
Thy neece, my daughter Argentile, 

Till she to age be growne ; 20 

And then, as thou receivest it, 

Resigne to her my throne. 

A promise had for his bequest, 

The testator he dies : 
But all that Edel undertooke, 25 

He afterwards denies. 

Yet well he * fosters for ' a time 
The damsell that was growne 



254 ARGENTILE AND CURAK. 

The fairest lady under heaven ; 

Whose beautie being knowne, 30 

A many princes seeke her love ; 

But none might her obtaine; 
For grippell Edel to himselfe 

Her kingdome sought to gaine ; 
And for that cause from sight of such ^5 

He did his ward restraine. 

By chance one Curan, sonne unto 

A prince in Danske, did see 
The maid, with whom he fell in love, 

As much as man might bee. 40 

Unhappie youth, what should he doe ? 

His saint was kept in mewe ; 
Nor he, nor any noble-man 

Admitted to her vewe. 

One while in melancholy fits 45 

He piues himselfe awaye ; 
Anon he thought by force of arms 

To win her if he maye : 

And still against the kings restraint 

Did secretly invay. 50 

At length the high controller Love, 

Whom none may disobay. 



% 



ARGENTILE AND CURAN. 255 

Imbased him from lordlines 

Into a kitchen drudge, 
That so at least of life or death 55 

She might become his judge. 

Accesse so had to see and speake, 

He did his love bewray, 
And tells his birth : her answer was. 

She husbandles would stay. 60 

Meane while the king did beate his braines. 

His booty to atcheive. 
Nor caring what became of her. 

So he by her might thrive ; 
At last his resolution was 65 

Some pessant should her wive. 

And (which was working to his wish) 

He did observe with joye 
How Curan, whom he thought a drudge, 

Scapt many an amorous toye '. 70 

The king, perceiving such his veine. 

Promotes his vassal still, 
Lest that the basenesse of the man 

Should lett, perhaps, his will. 

' The construction is, " How tliat many an amorous toy, or 
foolery of loye, *8caped Curan ;** «. e. escaped from him, heing off 
his guard. 



256 AR6ENTILE AND CURAK. 

Assured therefore of his love, 75 

But not suspecting who 
. The lover was, the king himselfe 
In his behalf did woe. 

The lady resolute from love, 

Unkindly takes that he 80 

Should barre the noble, and unto 

So base a match agree : 

And therefore shifting out of doores, 

Departed thence by stealth ; 
Preferring povertie before 85 

A dangerous life in wealth. 

When Curan heard of her escape, 

The anguish in his hart 
Was more than much, and after her 

From court he did depart ; 90 

Forgetfull of himselfe, his birth, 

His country, friends, and all, 
And only minding (whom he mist) 

The foundresse of his thrall. 

Nor meanes he after to frequent 95 I 

Or court, or stately townes, 
But solitarily to live 

Amongst the country grownes. 



AROENTILE AND CURAN. 257 

A brace of years he lived thus, 

Well pleased so to live, 100 

And shepherd-like to feed a flocke 

Himselfe did wholly give. 

So wasting, love, by worke, and want, 

Grew almost to the waine : 
But then began a second love, 105 

The worser of the twaine. 

A country wench, a neatherds maid. 

Where Curan kept his sheepe, 
Did feed her drove : and now on her 

Was all the shepherds keepe. 110 

He borrowed on the working daies 

His holy russets oft. 
And of the bacon's fat, to make 
' His startops blacke and soft. 

And least his tarbox should offend, 115 

He left it at the folde : 
Sweete growte, or whig, his bottle had, 

As much as it might holde. 

A sheeve of bread as browne as nut, 

And cheese as white as snow, 120 

Ver. 112, i.e. faolj-day rosseti. 
VOL. II. 



258 ARGENTILE AND CURAN. 

And wildings, or the seasons fruit 
He did in scrip bestow. 

And whilst his py-bald curre did sleepe, 

And sheep-hooke lay him by, 
On hollow quilles of oten straw 125 

He piped melody. 

But when he spyed her his saint, 

He wip'd his greasie shooes, 
And clear 'd the drivell from his beard. 

And thus the shepheard wooes. 130 

" I have, sweet wench, a peece of cheese. 
As good as tooth may chawe, 
And bread and wildings souling well, 
(And therewithall did drawe 

" His lardrie) and in * yeaning 'see 135 

Yon crumpling ewe, quoth he. 
Did twinne this fall, and twin shouldst thou, 
If I might tup with thee. 

** Thou art too elvish, faith thou art, 

Too elvish and too coy : 140 

Am I, I pray thee, beggarly. 
That suche a flocke enjoy ? 

y. 135, eating, p.cc. 



AROBNTILE AND CURAN. 259 

*' I wis I am not : yet that thou 
Doest hold me in disdaine 
Is brimme abroad, and made a gybe 145 

To all that keepe this plaine. 

** There be as quaint (at least that thinke 

Themselves as quaint) that crave 

The match, that thou, I wot not why, 

Maist, but mislik'st to have. 150 

** How wouldst thou match ? (for well I wot. 
Thou art a female) I, 
Her know not here that willingly 
With maiden-head would die. 

"The plowmans labour hath no end, 155 

And he a churle will prove : 
The craftsman hath more worke in hand 
Then fitteth unto love : 



it 



The merchant, traffiquing abroad, 

Suspects his wife at home : 160 

A youth will play the wanton ; and 

An old man prove a mome. 



" Then chuse a shepheard : with the sun 
He doth his flocke unfold, 

v. 153, Her know I not her that. ed. 1602. 

s 2 



260 ARGENTILB AND CUBAN. 

And all the day on hill or plaine, 165 

He merrie chat can hold ; 

** And with the sun doth folde againe ; 
Then jogging home betime, 
He tumes a crab, or tumes a round, 

Or sings some merry ryme. 170 

" Nor lacks he gleefuU tales, whilst round 
The nut-brown bowl doth trot ; 
And sitteth singing care away. 
Till he to bed be got : 

'* Theare sleepes he soundly all the night, 175 

Forgetting morrow-cares : 
Nor feares he blasting of his come, 
Nor uttering of his wares ; 

" Or stormes by seas, or stirres on land, 

Or cracke of credit lost : 180 

Not spending franklier than his flocke 
Shall still defray the cost. 

" Well wot I, sooth they say, that say 
More quiet nights and daies 
The shepheard sleeps and wakes, than he 1 85 
Whose cattel he doth graize, 

V. 169, t. e. roasts a crab, or apple. V. 171, to tell, whilst 

round the bole doth trot. ed. 1597* 



ARGEMTILE AND CUBAN. 261 

" Beleeve me, lasse, a king is but 
A man, and so am I : 
Content is worth a monarchie, 

And mischiefs hit the hie ; 190 

*' As late it did a king and his 
Not dwelling far from hence. 
Who left a daughter, save thyselfe, 

For fkir a matchless wench." 

Here did he pause, as if his ton'gue 195 

Had done his heart offence. 

The neatresse, longing for the rest, 

Did egge him on to tell 
How faire she was, and who she was. 

" She bore, quoth he, the bell 200 

** For beautie : though I clownish am, 

I know what beautie is ; 

Or did I not, at seeing thee, 

I senceles were to mis. 
* * # # 

" Her stature comely, tall ; her gate 205 

Well graced ; and her wit 
To marvell at, not meddle with. 
As matchless I omit. 

" A globe-like head, a gold-like haire, 

A forehead smooth, and hie, 210 



262 ARGENTILE AND CITRAN. 

An even nose ; on either side 
Did shine a grayish eie : 

" Two rosie cheeks, round ruddy lips. 
White just-set teeth within ; 
A mouth in meane; and undemeathe 215 

A round and dimpled chin. 

" Her snowie necke, with blewish veines. 
Stood bolt upright upon 
Her portly shoulders : beating balles 

Her veined breasts, anon 220 

" Adde more to beautie. Wand-like was 
Her middle falling still, 
And rising whereas women rise : * • * 
— Imagine nothing ill. 

" And more, her long, and limber armes 225 

Had white and azure wrists ; 
And slender fingers aunswere to 
Her smooth and lillie fists. 

*' A legge in print, a pretie foot ; 

Conjecture of the rest : 230 

For amorous eies, observing forme. 
Think parts obscured best. 

" With these O raretie ! with these 
Her tong of speech was spare ; 



AROEKTILE AND CURAK. 263 

But speaking, Venus seem'd to speake, 235 

The balle from Ide to bear. 

** With Phoebe, Juno, and with both 
Herselfe contends in face : 
Wheare equal! mixture did not want 

Of milde and stately grace. 240 

'* Her smiles were sober, and her lookes 
Were chearefull onto all : 
Even such as neither wanton seeme, 
Nor waiward ; mell, nor gall. 

** A quiet minde, a patient moode, 245 

And not disdaining any ; 
Not gybing, gadding, gawdy : and 
Sweete*faculties had many. 

** A nimph, no tong, no heart, no eie, 

Might praise, might wish, might see ; 250 

For life, for love, for forme ; more good. 
More worth, more faire than shee. 

" Yea such an one, as such was none. 
Save only she was such : 
Of Argentile to say the most, 255 

Were to be silent much," 

I knew the lady very well. 
But worthies of such praise. 



264 ARGENTILE AND CURAN. 

The neatresse said : and muse I do, 

A shepheard thus should blaze 260 

1 he * coate ' of beautie *. Credit me, 

Thy latter speech bewraies 

Thy clownish shape a coined shew. 

But wherefore dost thou weepe ? 
The shepheard wept, and she was woe, 265 

And both doe silence keepe. 

** In troth, quoth he, I am not such, 
As seeming I professe : 
But then for her, and now for thee, 

I from myselfe digresse. 270 

** Her loved I (wretch that I am 
A recreant to be) 
I loved her, that hated love, 
But now I die for thee. 

" At Kirkland is my fathers courts 275 

And Curan is my name. 
In Edels court sometimes in pompe, 
Till love countrould the same : 

" But now — what now ? — deare heart, how now ? 
What ailest thou to weepe ? " 280 

The damsell wept, and he was woe^ 
And both did silence keepe. 

1 I. e. emblazon beauty's coat Ed. 1597, 1602, 1612, read eooie. 



AROENTILE AND CXJRAN. 



265 



I graunt, quoth she, it was too much, 
That you did love so much : 

But whom your former could not move, 
Your second love doth touch. 

Thy twice-beloved Argentile 

Submitteth her to thee, 
And for thy double love presents 

Herself a single fee. 
In passion not in person changM, 

And I, my lord, am she. 

They sweetly surfeiting in joy, 

And silent for a space. 
When as the extasie had end. 

Did tenderly imbrace ; 
And for their wedding, and their wish 

Got fitting time and place. 

Not England (for of Hengist then 

Was named so this land) 
Then Curan had an hardier knight ; 

His force could none withstand : 
Whose sheep-hooke laid apart, he then 

Had higher things in hand. 

First, making knowne his lawfull claime 

In Argentile her right. 
He warr'd in Diria ', and he wonne 

Bemicia ' too in fight : 



985 



290 



295 



300 



305 



' During the Saxon heptarchy, the kingdom of Northumber- 



266 corin's fate. 

And so from trecherous Edel tooke 

At once his life and crowne, 310 

And of Northumberland was king, 

Long raigning in renowne. 



XXV. 

€ovltCii Jf&tt. 

Only the three first stanzas of this song are ancient : 
these are extracted from a small quarto MS. in the 
Editor's possession, written in the time of Queen Eliza- 
beth. As they seemed to want application, this has been 
attempted by a modern hand. 

CoRiN, most unhappie swaine, 

Whither wilt thou drive thy flocke ? 

Little foode is on the plaine ; 
Full of danger is the rocke : 

Wolfes and beares doe kepe the woodes ; 5 

Forests tangled are with brakes : 
Meadowes subject are to floodes ; 

Moores are full of miry lakes. 

Yet to shun all plaine, and hill, 

Forest, moore, and meadow-ground, 10 

land (consisting of six northern counties, besides part of Scotland) 
was for a long time divided into two lesser sovereignties, viz. 
Deira (called here Diria) which contained the southern parts, and 
Bemicia, comprehending those which lay north. 



corin's fate. 267 

Hunger will as surely kill : 

How may then reliefe be found ? 

Such is hapless Corins fate : 

Since my waywarde love begunne, 
Equall doubts begett debate 1 5 

What to seeke, and what to shunne. 

Spare to speke, and spare to speed ; 

Yet to speke will move disdaine : 
If I see her not I bleed, 

Yet her sight augments my paine, 20 

What may then poor Corin doe ? 

Tell me, shepherdes, quicklye tell ; 
For to linger thus in woe 

Is the lover's sharpest hell. 

V 



268 JANE SHORE. 



XXVI. 

Though so many vulgar errors have prevailed concern- 
ing this celebrated courtesan, no character in history has 
been more perfectly handed down to us. We have her 
portrait drawn by two masterly pens ; the one has deli- 
neated the features of her person, the other those of her 
character and story. Sir Thomas More drew from the life, 
and Drayton has copied an original picture of her. The 
reader will pardon the length of the quotations, as they 
serve to correct many popular mistakes relating to her 
catastrophe. The first is from Sir Thomas More*s history 
of Richard III., written in 1513, about thirty years after 
the death of Edward IV. 

" Now then by and by, as it wer for anger, not for cove- 
tise, the protector sent into the house of Shores wife (for 
her husband dwelled not with her) and spoiled her of al 
that ever she had, (above the value of two or three thou- 
sand marks,) and sent her body to prison. And when he 
had a while laide unto her, for the maner sake, that she 
went about to bewitch him, and that she was of counsel 
with the lord chamberlein to destroy him : in conclusion, 
when that no colour could fasten upon t]iese matters, then 
he layd heinously to her charge the thing that herselfe 
could not deny, that al the world wist was true, and that 
natheles every man laughed at to here it then so sodainly 
so highly taken, — that she was naught of her body. And 
for thys cause, (as a goodly continent prince, clone and 
fautless of himself, sent oute of heaven into this vicious 
world for the amendment of mens manors,) he caused the 
bishop of London to put her to open pennance, going be- 



JANE SHORE. 269 

fore the crosse in procession upon a sondaj with a taper in 
her hand. In which she went in countenance and pace de- 
mure so womanly ; and albeit she was out of al array save 
her kyrtle only, yet went she so fair and lovely, namelye, 
while the wondering of the people caste a comly rud in 
her chekes, (of which she before had most misse,) that 
her great shame wan her much praise among those that 
were more amorous of her body, then curious of her soule. 
And many good folke also, that hated her Hying, and glad 
wer to se sis corrected, yet pittied thei more her penance 
then rejoiced therin, when thei considred that the protec- 
tor procured it more of a corrupt intent, then any virtuous 
affection. 

" This woman was bom in London, worshipfuUy 
irended, honestly brought up, and very wel maryed, sav- 
ing somewhat to soone ; her husbande an honest citizen, 
yonge, and goodly, and of good substance. But foras- 
muche as they were coupled ere she wer wel ripe, 
she not very fervently loved, for whom she never longed. 
Which was happely the thinge, that the more easily 
made her encline unto the king's appetite, when he re- 
quired her. Howbeit the respect of hb royaltie, the 
hope of gay apparel, ease, plesure, and other wanton 
welth, was able soone to perse a soft tender hearte. But 
when the king had abused her, anon her husband (as he 
was an honest man, and one that could his good, not pre- 
suming to touch a kinges concubine) left her up to him 
al together. When the king died, the lord chambcrlen 
[Hastings] toke her ^ : which in the kinges daies, albeit he 

^ After the death of Hastings she was kept by the Marquis of 
Dorset, son to Edward IV.^s qaeen. In Rymer*s Foedera is a 
proclamation of Richard^s, dated at Leicester, October 23, 1483, 
wherein a reward of 1000 marks in money, or 100 a-year in land, 
is offered for taking " Thomas late marquis of Dorset," who, ** not 
having the fear of God, nor the salvation of his own soul, before 
his eyes, has damnably debauched and defiled many maids, widows, 



(I 



270 JANE SHORE. 

was sore enamoured upon her, yet he forbare her, either 
for reverence, or for a certain frendly faithfulness. 

'* Proper she was, and faire : nothing in her body that 
you wold have changed, but if you would have wished her 
somewhat higher. Thus say thei that Icnew her in her 
youthe. Albeit some that now see her, (for yet she Sveth,) 
deme her never to have been wel visaged. Whose juge- 
ment seemeth me somewhat lilce as though men should 
gesse the bewty of one longe before departed, by her 
scalpe talcen out of the charnel-house ; for now is she old, 
lene, withered, and dried up, nothing left but ry vilde skin, 
and hard bone. And yet being even such, whoso wel 
advise her visage, might gesse and devise which partes 
how filled, wold make it a fair face. 

"Yet delited not men so much in her bewty, as in 
her pleasant behaviour. For a proper wit had she, and 
could both rede wel and write ; mery in company, redy 
and quick of aunswer, neither mute nor ful of bable ; 
sometime taunting without dbpleasure, and not without 
disport. The king would say. That he had three concu- 
bines, which in three divers properties diversly excelled. 
One the meriest, another the wiliest, the thirde the holiest 
harlot in his real me, as one whom no man could get out 
of the church lightly to any place, but it wer to hb bed. 
The other two wer somewhat greater personages, and 
natheles of their humilite content to be nameles, and to 
forbore the praise of those properties ; but the meriest 
was the Shoris wife, in whom the king therfore toke spe- 
cial pleasure. For many he had, but her he loved, whose 
favour, to sai the troutb (for sinne it wer to belie the 
devil) she never abused to any mans hurt, but to many a 

and wives, and lived in actual adidtery with the toi/e of ShoreJ''* — 
Buckingliam was at that time in rebellion, but as Dorset was not 
with him, Richard could not accuse him of treason, and therefore 
made a handle of these pretended debaucheries to get him appre- 
hended. Tide Rym. Foed. torn. xij. p. 204. 



JANE SHORE. ^371 

mans comfort and relief. Where the king toke displea- 
sure, she would mitigate and appease his mind : where 
men wer6 out of favour, she wold bring them in his 
grace : for many, that had highly offended, shoe obtuned 
pardon : of great forfeitures she gate men remission : and 
finally in many weighty sutes she stode many men in gret 
stede, either for none or very smal rewardes, and those 
rather gay than rich : either for that she was content with 
the dede selfe well done, or for that she delited to be 
sued unto, and to show what she was able to do wyth the 
king, or for that wanton women and welthy be not alway 
covetous. 

" I doubt not some shal think this woman too sleight a 
thing to be written of, and set amonge the remembraunces 
of great matters : which thei shal specially think, that 
happely shal esteme her only by that thei now see her, V 
But me semeth the chauuce so much the more worthy to V '' 
be remembred, in how much she is now in the more beg- ! ^ 
garly condicion, unfrended and worne out of acquaintance, ' 
after good substance, after as grete favour with the prince, { > 
after as grete sute and seeking to with al those, that in 
those days had busynes to spede, as many other men were 
of their times, which be now famouse only by the infamy 
in their il dedes. Her doinges were not much lesse, albeit 
thei be muche less remembred because thei were not so 
evil. For men use, if they have an evil tume, to write 
it in marble : and whoso doth us a good tourne, we write 
it in duste'. Which is not worst proved by her ; for ai " 
thit daye shee beggeth of many at this daye living, that 

' The words of Sir Thomas More probably suggested to Shak- 
speare that proverbial reflection in Henry VIII. act iv. sc. 2. 

^* Men^s evil manners live in brass : their virtues 
We write in water." 

Shakspeare, in his play of Richai'd III., follows Morels history of 
that reign, and therefore could not but see this passage. 



272 JANS SHORE. 

at this day had begged, if shee had not bene." See Mora's 
Works, folio, black letter, 1557, pp. 56, 57. 

Drayton has written a poetical epistle from this lady to 
her royal lover, and in his notes thereto he thus draws her 
portrait : " Her stature was meane, her haire of a dark 
yellow! her face round and full, her eye gray, delicate har- 
mony being betwixt each part's proportion, and each pro- 
portion's colour, her body fat, white, and smooth, her 
countenance cheerfull and like to her condition. The pic- 
ture which I have seen of hers was such as she rose out 
of her bed in the morning, having nothing on but a rich 
mantle cast under one arme over her shoulder, and sitting 
on a chaire, on which her naked arm did lie. What her 
Other's name was, or where she was borne, is not certainly 
knowne : but Shore, a young man of right goodly person, 
wealth, and behaviour, abandoned her bed after the king 
had made her his concubine. Richard III. causing her 
to do open penance in Paul's church-yard, commanded thai 
no man thould relieve her, which the tyrant did, not so 
much for his hatred to sinne, but that by making hb bro- 
ther's life odious, he might cover his horrible treasons 
the more cunningly." See JSngland*s Herokal EpUtlet, 
by Michael Drayton, Esq., London, 1637, 12mo. 

The history of Jane Shore receives new illustration 
from the following letter of Ring Richard III., which is 
preserved in the Harl. MSS. number 433, article 2378, 
but of which the copy transmitted to the Editor, has 
been reduced to modern orthography, &c. It is said to 
have been addressed to Russel, bishop of Lincoln, lord 
chancellor, anno 1484. 

By the KING. 

" Right Reverend Father in God, &c. signifying unto 
you, that it is shewed unto us, that our Servant and Soli- 
citor Thomas Lynom, marvellously blinded and abused 



JANE SHORE. 273 

with the late Wife of WiHiam Shore, now living in Lud- 
gate by our commandment, hath made Contract of Matri- 
mony with her, as it is said, and intendeth to our full 
great marvel, to effect the same. WE, for many causes, 
would be sorry that he should be so disposed ; pray you 
therefore to send for him, and in that ye goodly may, ex- 
hort, and stir him to the contrary : And if ye find him 
utterly set for to marry her, and none otherwise would be 
advertbed, then, if it may stand with the laws of the 
church, we be content the time of marriage be deferred 
to our coming next to London ; that upon sufficient 
Surety found of her good abearing, ye do so send for her 
Keeper, and discharge him of our said commandment, by 
Warrant of these, committing her to the rule, and guid- 
ing of her Father, or any other, by your direction, in the 
mean season. Given, &c. 

" RIC. Rex." 

It appears from two articles in the same MS. that King 
Richard had granted to the said Thomas Linom the office 
of King's Solicitor, (Article 134,) and also the manor of 
Colme worth, com. Bedf. to him, his heirs male. (Article 
596.) 

An original picture of Jane Shore, almost naked, is 
preserved in the Provost's lodgings at Eton ; and another 
picture of her is in the Provost's Lodge at King's College, 
Cambridge, to both which foundations she is supposed to 
have done friendly offices with Edward IV. A small 4to 
mezzotinto print was taken from the former of these by 
J. Faber. 

The following ballad is printed (with some corrections) 
from an old black-letter copy in the Fepys collection. Its 
full title is, " The woefuU lamentation of Jane Shore, a 
goldsmith's wife in London, sometime king Edward IV, 
his concubine. To the tune of * Live with me, &c.' " [See 

VOL. II. T 



274 JANE SHORE. 

the first Yolume.] To eyerj stanza is annexed the follow- 
ing burthen : 

Then maids and wives in time amend, 
For love and beauty will have end. 



If Rosamonde that was so faire, 
Had cause her sorrowes to declare, 
Then let Jane Shore with sorrowe sing, 
That was beloved of a king. 

In maiden yeares my beautye bright 5 

Was loved dear of lord and knight ; 
But yet the love that they requir'd. 
It was not as my friends desir'd. 

My parents they, for thirst of gaine, 

A husband for me did obtaine ; 15 

And I, their pleasure to fulfille, 

Was forc'd to wedd against my wille. 

To Matthew Shore I was a wife, 

Till lust brought ruine to my life ; 

And then my life I lewdlye spent, 20 

Which makes my soul for to lament. 

In Lombard-street I once did dwelle. 
As London yet can witness welle ; 
Where many gallants did beholde 
My beautye in a shop of golde. 



JANE SHORE. 275 

I spred my plumes, as wantons doe, 
Some sweet and secret friende to wooe, 
Because chast love I did not finde 
Agreeing to my wanton minde. 

At last my name in court did ring 25 

Into the eares of Englandes king, 
Who came and lik'd, and love required, 
But I made coye what he desir'd : 

Yet Mistress Blague, a neighbour neare, 
Whose friendship I esteemed deare, 30 

Did saye. It was a gallant thing 
To be beloved of a king. 

By her persuasions I was led. 

For to defile my marriage-bed. 

And wronge my wedded husband Shore, 35 

Whom I had married yeares before. 

In heart and mind I did rejoyce, 

That I had made so sweet a choice ; 

And therefore did my state resigne. 

To be king Edward's concubine. 40 

From city then to court I went. 
To reape the pleasures of content ; 
There had the joyes that love could bring, 
And knew the secrets of a king. 

T 2 



276 JANE SHORE* 

When I was thus advanc'd on highe 45 

Commanding Edward with mine eye, 
For Mrs. Blague I in short space 
Obtainde a livinge from his grace. 

No friende I had but in short time 

I made unto promotion climbe ; 50 

But yet for all this costly e pride, 

My husbande could not mee abide. 

His bed, though wronged by a king, 

His heart with deadlye griefe did sting ; 

From England then he goes away 55 

To end his life beyond the sea. 

He could not live to see his name 

Impaired by my wanton shame ; 

Although a prince of peerlesse might 

Did reape the pleasure of his right. 60 

Long time I lived in the conrte, 
With lords and ladies of great sorte ; 
And when I smil'd all men were glad, 
But when I frown'd my prince grewe sad. 

But yet a gentle minde I bore 65 

To helplesse people, that were poore ; 

I still redrest the orphans crye. 

And sav'd their lives condemnd to dye. 



JANE SHORE. 277 

I Still had ruth on widowes tears, 

I succour'd bahes of tender yeares ; 70 

And never look'd for other gaine 

But love and thankes for all my paine. 

At last my royall king did dye, 

And then my dayes of woe grew nighe ; 

When crook-back Richard got the crowne, 75 

King Edwards friends were soon put downe* 

I then was punisht for my sin, 

That I so long had lived in ; 

Yea, every one that was his friend, 

This tyrant brought to shameful end. 80 

Then for my lewd and wanton life. 
That made a strumpet of a wife, 
I penance did in Lombard-street, 
In shamefull manner in a sheet. 

Where many thousands did me viewe, 85 

Who late in court my credit knewe ; 
Which made the teares run down my face. 
To think upon my foul disgrace. 

Not thus content, they took from mee 
My goodes, my livings, and my fee, 90 

And charg'd that none should me relieve. 
Nor any succour to me give. 



278 JANE SHORE. 

Then unto Mrs. Blague I went, 

To whom my jewels I had sent, 

In hope therebye to ease my want, 95 

When riches fail'd, and love grew scant : 

But she denyed to me the same 

When in my need for them I came ; 

To recompence my former love. 

Out of her doores shee did me shove. 100 

So love did vanish with my state, 
Which now my soul repents too late ; 
Therefore example take by mee, 
For friendship parts in povertie. 

But yet one friend among the rest, 105 

Whom I before had seen distrest. 
And sav'd his life, condemned to die, 
Did give me food to succour me : 

For which, by lawe, it was decreed 

That he was hanged for that deed ; 110 

His death did grieve me so much more. 

Than had I dyed myself therefore. 

Then those to whom I had done good, 

Durst not afford mee any food ; 

Whereby I begged all the day, 115 

And still in streets by night I lay. 



JANS SHORE. . 279 

My gowns beset with pearl and gold, 

Were tum'd to simple garments old ; 

My chains and gems and golden rings, 

To filthy rags and loathsome things. 120 

Thus was I scom'd of maid and wife. 
For leading such a wicked life ; 
Both sucking babes and children small, 
Did make their pastime at my fall. 

I could not get one bit of bread, 125 

Whereby my hunger might be fed : 
Nor drink, but such as channels yield, 
Or stinking ditches in the field. 

Thus, weary of my life, at lengthe 

I yielded up my vital strength 130 

Within a ditch of loathsome scent. 

Where carrion dogs did much frequent : 

The which now since tny dying daye, 

Is Shoreditch call'd, as writers saye ' ; 

Which is a witness of my sinne, 135 

For being concubine to a king. 

You wanton wives, that fall to lust, 
Be you assur'd that God is just ; 

* But it had this name long before ; being so called from its 
being a common Sewer (vulgarly Shore) or drain. See Stow. 



280 JANE SHORE. 

Wboredome shall not escape his hand, 

Nor pride unpunished in this land. 140 

If God to me such shame did bring, 
That yielded only to a king, 
How shall tliey scape that daily run 
To practise sin with every one ? 

You husbands, match not but for love, 145 

Lest some disliking after prove ; 

Women, be wam'd when you are wives, 

What plagues are due to sinful lives : 

Then, maids and wives, in time amend, 
For love and beauty will have end. 



corydon's doleful knell. 281 



XXVII 

This little simple elegy is given, with some corrections, 
from two copies, one of which is in 77ie golden Garland 
of Prmcefy Delights. 

The burthen of the song, Ding Dong, &c. is at present 
appropriated to burlesque subjects, and therefore may ex- 
cite only ludicrous ideas in a modem reader ; but in the 
time of our poet, it usually accompanied the most solemn 
and mournful strains. Of this kind is that fine aerial 
dirge in Shakspeare's Tempest : 

" Full fadom five thy father lies. 
Of his bones are corrall made ; 
Those are pearles that were Lis eyes ; 

Nothing of him, that doth fade, 
But doth suffer a sea-change 
Into something rich and strange : 
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell, 
Harke now I heaie tiiem, Ding dong bell.^* 

**" Burthen, Ding dong.'* 

I make no doubt but the poet intended to conclude the 
above air in a manner the most solemn, and expressive of 
melancholy. 



Mt Phillida, adieu love ! 

For evermore farewel I 
Ay me ! I've lost my true love, 

And thus I ring her knell, 



282 cortdon's doleful knell. 

Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, 5 

My PhilHda is dead ! 
I'll stick a branch of willow 

At my fair Phillis' head. 

For my fair PhiUida 

Our bridal bed was made : 10 

But 'stead of silkes so gay, 

She in her shroud is laid. 
Ding, &c. 

Her corpse shall be attended 

By maides in fair array. 
Till the obsequies are ended, 15 

And she is wrapt in clay. 
Ding, &c. 

Her herse it shall be carried 

By youths, that do excell ; 
And when that she is buried, 

I thus will ring her knell. 20 

Ding, &c. 

A garland shall be framed 

By art and natures skill, 
Of sundry -coloured flowers. 

In token of good-will ^ 
Ding, &c. 

^ It is a custom in many parts of England, to carry a flowery 
garland before the corpse of a woman who dies unmarried. 



corydon's doleful knell. 283 

And sundry-colour'd ribbands 25 

On it I will bestow ; 
But chiefly black and yellowe ' : 

With her to grave shall go. 
Ding, &c. 

1*11 decke her tomb with flowers, 

The rarest ever seen, 30 

And with my tears, as showers, 

ril keepe them fresh and green. 
Ding, &c. 

Instead of fairest colours. 

Set forth with curious art'. 
Her image shall be painted 35 

On my distressed heart. 
Ding, &c. 

And thereon shall be graven. 

Her epitaph so faire, 
'* Here lies the loveliest maiden, 

That e'er gave shepheard care." 40 

Ding, &c. 

In sable will I moume ; 

Blacke shall be all my weede : 



> See above, preface to no. zi. book ii. p. 188. 
s This alludes to the painted effigies of alabaster, anciently 
erected upon tombs and monuments. 



284 corydon's doleful kkell. 

Ay me ! I am forlorae, 
Now Phillida is dead ! 

Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, 45 

My Phillida is dead ! 
I'll stick a branch of willow 
At my fair Phillis* head. 



END OF THE SECOND BOOK. 



RELIQUES 



OF 



ANCIENT POETRY, 



SERIES THE SECOND. 
BOOK III. 



L 
C]^e Cdtn^Iaitit of Cotis^cience. 

I SHALL begin this Third Book with an old allegoric 
Satire : a manner of moralizing, which, if it was not first 
introduced by the author of Pierce PlowmatCt Visiont, 
was at least chiefly brought into repute by that ancient 
satirist. It is not so generally known that the kind of 
verse used in this ballad hath any affinity with the peculiar 
metre of that writer, for which reason I shall throw toge- 
ther some cursory remarks on that very singular species 
of versification, the nature of which has been so little un- 
derstood. 

ON THE ALLITERATIVE METRE, WITHOUT BHTME, 
IN PIERCE plowman's VISIONS. 

We learn from Wormius \ that the ancient Islandic poets 

^ Literatura Runica. Hafnise, 1636, 4to. — 1651, fol. The Islandic 
languid is of the same origin as our Anglo-Saxon, being both 



286 ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 

used a great variety of measures : he mentions 136 dif- 
ferent kinds, without including rhyme, or a correspondeiice 
of final syllables : yet this was occasionally used, as appears 
from the Ode qfJEgU, which Wormius hath inserted in his 
book. 

He hath analyzed the structure of one of these kinds 
of verse, the harmony of which neither depended on the 
quantity of the syllables, like that of the ancient Greeks 
and Romans, nor 6n the rhymes at the end, as in modern 
poetry, but consisted altogether in alliteration, or a cer- 
tain artful repetition of the sounds in the middle of the 
verses. This was adjusted according to certain rules of 
their pro9ody, one of which was, that every distich should 
contain at least three words beginning with the same 
letter or sound. Two of these correspondent sounds 
might be placed either in the first or second line of the 
distich, and one in the other : but all three were not 
regularly to be crowded into one line. This will be best 
understood by the following examples ^. 

** Meire og Afinne " Crab G^inunga 

MogvL heimdaller/* " Enn Gras huerge." 

There were many other little niceties observed by the 
Islandic poets, who, as they retained their original lan- 
guage and peculiarities longer than the other nations of 
Gothic race, had time to cultivate their native poetry 
more, and to carry it to a higher pitch of refinement, than 
any of the rest. 

Their brethren, the Anglo-Saxon poets, occasionally 
used the same kind of alliteration, and it is common to 
meet in their veritings with similar examples of the fore- 
going rules. Take an instance or two in modem cha- 
racters ' : 

dialects of the ancient Gothic or Teutonic. Vide Hickesii Praefat. 
in Grammat. Anglo-Saxon, & Moeso-Goth. 4to. 1689. 

' Vide Hickes, Antiq. Literatur. Septentrional, torn. i. p. 217. 

» Ibid. 



ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 287 



" Skeo^ tha and Skyr^e ** Hsm and ^eahsetl 

/S'^TPpend uro." /Teofena rikea." 

I know not, however, that there is any where extant an 
entire Saxon poem all in this measure. But distiches of 
this sort perpetually occur in all their poems of any 
length. 

Now, if we examine the versification of Pierce Plow» 
marCt Visions, we shall find it constructed exactly by 
these rules ; and therefore each line, as printed, is in 
reality a distich of two verses, and will, I believe, be found 
distinguished as such, by some mark or other in all the 
ancient MSS. viz. 

*' In a /Sbmer ^ason, | when *hot*^ was the /S'unne, 
I iSAope me into ^SAroubs, | as I a iSAepe were ; 
I ^Tabite as an ^Tarmet | un^Toly of werkes, 
TTent TTyde in thys world | TTonders to heare," &c. 

So that the author of this poem will not be found to have 
invented any new mode of versification, as some have sup- 
posed, but only to have retained that of the Old Saxon and 
Gothic poets : which was probably never wholly laid aside, 
but occasionally used at different intervals : though the 
ravages of time will not sufier us now to produce a regular 
series of poems entirely written in it. 

There are some readers whom it may gratify to men- 
tion, that these Visions of Pierce [t. e, Peter] the Plowman, 
are attributed to Robert Langland, a secular priest, born 
at Mortimer's Cleobury in Shropshire, and Fellow of 
Oriel College in Oxford, who flourished in the reigns of 
Edward III. and Richard II., and published his poem a 
few years after 1350. It consists of xx Passus or Breaks', 

^ So I would read with Mr. Warton, rather than either * soft,* as 
in MS. or ' set,* as in p.cc. 

' The poem properly contains xzi. parts: the word Passus^ 
adopted by the author, seems only to denote the break or division 
between two parts, though by the ignorance of the printer applied 



288 OM ALLITERATIVE METRE* 

exhibiting a series of visions, which he pretends happened 
to him on Malvern hills in Worcestershire. The author 
excels in strong allegoric painting, and has with great 
humour, spirit, and fancy, censured most of the vices inci- 
dent to the several professions of life ; but he particularly 
inveighs against the corruption of the clergy, and the ab- 
surdities of superstition. Of this work I have now before 
me four different editions in black-letter quarto. Three 
of them are printed in 1550 iis Itobert (ETrotoles trbelltng 
in ^Ifjit rentes tn Holiurne. It is remarkable that two 
of these are mentioned in the title-page as both of the 
second impression, though they contain evident variations 
in every page^. The other is said to be ttrtolge tmprsntelV 
after t(e aut^ord oUre eops ... is ^toen iCogera, Feb. 
21, 1561. 

As Langland was not the first, so neither was he the 
last that used this alliterative species of versification. 
To Rogers's edition of the Visions is subjoined a poem* 
which was probably writ in imitation of them, entitled 
Pierce the PlowmatCs Crede, It begins thus .- 

" Cros, and Curteis Christ, this beginning specie 
For the i^ders i^rendshipe, that i^ourmed heaven, 
And through the ASjpecial Spirit^ that Sprang of hem tweyne, 
And al in one godhed endles dwelleth/* 

The author feigns himself ignorant of his Creed, to be in- 
structed in which he applies to the four religious orders, 
viz. the gray friers of St. Francis, the black friers of St. 
Dominic, the Carmelites or white friers, and the Augus- 

to the parts themselves. See vol. iii. pre&ce to ballad iii. where 
Passus seems to signify Pause. 
^ That which seems the first of the two, is thus distinguished in 

the title-page, itotoe t^e serotitre ti)ine tmyrtntetr bif Koierte 
Crotolse : the other thus, ttotoe t^e seeontre time imprtntelr 

bS ISoiert CrOtoleS. In tl^e former, the folios are thus errone- 
ously numbered, 39, 39, 41, 63, 43, 42, 45, &c. The booksellers of 
those days were not ostentatious of multiplying editions. 



ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 28& 

tines. Thb affords him occasion to describe, in very 
lively colours, the sloth, ignorance, and immorality of 
those reverend drones. At length he meets with Pierce, 
a poor ploughman, who resolves hb doubts, and instructs 
him in the principles of true religion. The author 
was evidently a follower of Wiccliff, whom he mentions 
(with honour) as no longer living '. Now that reformer 
died in 1384. How long after his death this poem was 
written, does not appear. 

In the Cotton Library is a yolume of ancient English 
poems ^ two of which are written in this alliterative 
metre, and have the division of the lines into distichs dis- 
tinctly marked by a point, as is usual in old poetical MSS. 
That which stands first of the two (though perhaps the 
latest written) is entitled The Sege of I Erlam [i. e, Jeru- 
salem], being an old fabulous legend composed by some 
monk, and stuffed with marvellous figments concerning 
the destruction of the holy city and temple. It begins 
thus: 

" In TyberiuB Tynie . the TVewe emperoor 
Syt iSSeaar hymBelf . belted in Rome 
Whyll Pylat was Provoste . under that Piynco ryche 
And Jewes Justice also . of «/udeas londe 
//erode under empere . as iJerytage wolde 
iTyng," &c. 

The other is entitled CheveUere Atsigne [or De Cigne], 
that is, *' The Knight of the Swan,** being an ancient 
romance, beginning thus : 

'' AU-Treldynge God . Whene it is his TTylle 
fTele he TTereth his IFerke . TTith his owene honde 
For ofte /Tarmes were Henio . that /Telpe wene myzte 
Nere the HyzaeB of Hjm . that lengeth in ^evene 
For this," &c. 

Among Mr. Garrick's collection of old Plays "is a prose 

« Signature C U. 7 CaliguU A. ij. fol. 109, 128. 

« K. vol. X. 
VOL. II. U 



290 ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 

narrative of the adventures of this same Knight of the 
Swan, ** newly translated out of Frenshe into Englyshe, 
at thinstigacion of the puyssaunt and illustryous prynce, 
lorde Edward duke of Buckynghame." This lord, it 
seems, had a peculiar interest in the book, for in the pre- 
face the translator tells us, that this ^* highe dygne and 
illustryous prynce my lorde Edwarde by the grace of god 
Duke of Buckyngham, erle of Hereforde, Stafibrde, and 
Northampton, desyrnge cotydyally to encrease and aug- 
ment the name and fame of such as were relucent in ver- 
tuous feates and triumphaunt actes of chyvalry, and to en- 
courage and styre every lusty and gentell herte by the 
exemplyficacyon of the same, havyng a goodli booke of 
the highe and miraculous histori of a famous and puys- 
saunt kynge, named Oryant, sometime reynynge in the 
parties of beyonde the sea, havynge to his wife a noble 
lady ; of whome she conceyved sixe sonnes and a daugh- 
ter, and chylded of them at one only time ; at whose 
byrthe echone of them had a chayne of sylver at their 
neckes, the whiche were all tourned by the provydence of 
god into why te swannes, save one, of the whiche this pre- 
sent hy story is com py led, named Helyas, the knight of 
the swanne, of whome liniall^ is descended my sayde lorde. 
The whiche ententifly to have the sayde hystory more 
amply and unyversally knowen in thys hys natif countrie, 
as it is in other, hath of hys hie bountie by some of his 
faithful and trusti servauntes cohorted mi mayster Wynkin 
de Worde * to put the said vertuous hystori in prynte . . . 
at whose instigacion and stiring I (Roberte Copland) have 
me applied, moiening the heipe of god, to reduce and 
translate it into our maternal and vulgare english tonge 
after the capacite and rudenesse of my weke entende- 
ment." A curious picture of the times I While in Italy 

9 W. de Worde'8 edit, is in 1512. See Ames, p. S2. Mr. G.'s 

copy is "t Jmprintelr at Uonlron tp me ^laaglUaw Cop- 

Uxcnr 



. ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 291 

literature and the fine arts were ready to burst forth with 
classical splendour under Leo X., the first peer of this 
realm was proud to derive his pedigree from a fabulous 
knight of the swan \ 

To return to the metre of Pierce Plowman : In the folio 
MS. 80 often quoted in these volumes, are two poems 
written in that species of versification. One of these is 
an ancient allegorical poem entitled Death and Life (in 
two fitts or parts, containing 458 distichs), which, for 
aught that appears, may have been written as early, if not 
before, the time of Langland. The first forty lines are 
broke, as they should be, into distichs, a distinction that 
is neglected in the remaining part of the transcript, in 
order, I suppose, to save room. It begins, 

" Christ Christen king, 

that on the Crosse tholed ; 
Hadd Paines and i'assyons 

to defend our sonles ; 
Give us GrAce on the Ground 

the (rreatlye to serve, 
For that i?oyall Bed hlood 

that i^ann from thy side/* 

The subject of this piece is a vision, wherein the poet 
sees a contest for superiority between " our lady Dame 
Life," and the " ugly fiend Dame Death ;** who, with 
their several attributes and concomitants, are personified 
in a fine vein of allegoric painting. Part of the description 
of Dame Life is, 

" Shee was Brighter of her Blee, 
then was the ^ight sonn : 
Her Audd ^Redder then the Aose, 

that on the i?ise hangeth : 
JIfeekely smiling with her A/outh, 
and Merry in her lookes ; 

^ He it said in the story-hook to he the grandfather of Godfrey 
of Boulogne, through whom I suppose the duke made out his rela- 
tion to him. This duke was heheadcd May 17, 1521, 13 Hcnn* 
Vlll. 

u 2 



292 ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 

Ever Zftughing for XoTe, 

M she Zike would. 
And as shoe came by the Bankes, 

the Boughes eche one 
They Xowted to that Zadye, 

and Zayd forth their branches ; 
filossomes and Burgens 

Breathed ttiU sweete ; 
lowers flourished in the Frith, 

where shee JPorth stepped ; 
And the GVasse, that was G'ray, 

Greened belive." 

Death is afterwards sketched out with a no less bold and 
original pencil. 

The other poem is that which is quoted in page 30 
of this volume, and which was probably the last that was 
ever written in this kind of metre in its original simpli- 
city, unaccompanied with rhyme. It should have been 
observed above, in page 30, that in this poem the lines 
are throughout divided into distichs, thus : 

" (Trant Crracious God, 

G'rant me this time/* &c. 

It is entitled Scottish Fielde, (in 2 fitts, 420 distichs,) 
containing a very circumstantial narrative of the battle of 
Flodden, fought Sept. 9, 1513 : at which the author seems 
to have been present, from his speaking in the first per- 
son plural : 

" Then WB Ti\d downe our Tents, 
that Told were a thousand." 

In the conclusion of the poem he gives this account of 

himself: 

** He was a Gentleman by t/esu, 
that this Crest' made : 
Which iSay but as he S^yd ' 
for ^ooth and noe other. 

« Jest. MS. 

» Probably corrupted for—" Says but as he Saw." 



ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 293 

At Bagily that Bearne 

his Biding place had ; 
And his ancestors of old time 

have yearded^ theire longe, 
Before William Conquerour 

this CSmtrj did inhabitt 
Jesus Bring * them * ' to Blisse, 

that Brought us forth of bale, 
That hath ^earkned me Heun 

or iJeard my talk.'* 

The village of Bagily or Baguleigh is in Cheshire, and 
had belonged to the ancient family of Legh for two cen- 
turies before the battle of Flodden. Indeed, that the 
author was of that country, appears from other passages 
in the body of the poem, particularly from the pains he 
takes to wipe off a stain from the Cheshiremen, who, it 
seems, ran away in that battle ; and from his encomiums 
on the Stanleys, Earls of Derby, who usually headed that 
county. He laments the death of James Stanley, bishop 
of Ely, as what had recently happened when this poem 
was written ; which serves to ascertain its date, for that 
prelate died March 22, 1514-5. 

Thus have we traced the Alliterative Measure so low 
as the sixteenth century. It is remarkable, that all such 
poets as used this kind of metre, retained along with it 
many peculiar Saxon idioms, particularly such as were 
appropriated to poetry: this deserves the attention of 
those who are desirous to recover the laws of the ancient 
Saxon Poesy, usually given up as inexplicable : I am of 
opinion that they will find what they seek in the metre of 
Pierce Plowman '. 

About the beginning of the sixteenth century, this kind 

^ Yearded, t. e. buried^ earthed^ earded. It is common to pro- 
nounce " earth/* in some parts of England, ** yearth," particularly 
in the North. — Pitscottie, speaking of James IIL, slain at Ban- 
nockhnm, says, ^ Nae man wot whar they yearded him.** 
^ ' us.* MS. In the second line ahove, the MS. has 'hidding.* 
' And in that of Robert of Gloucester. See the next note. 



294 ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 

of versification began to cbange its form : tbe author of 
ScoUiik Fieldy we see, concludes his poem with a couplet 
in rhyme : this was an innovation that did but prepare tbe 
way for the general admission of that more modish orna- 
ment : till at length the old uncouth verse of the ancient 
writers would no longer go down without it. Yet when 
rhyme began to be superadded, all the niceties of allitera- 
tion were at first retained along with it ; and the song of 
LUtle John Nobody exhibits this union very clearly. By 
degrees the correspondence of final sounds engrossing the 
whole attention of the poet, and fully satisfying the reader, 
tbe internal embellishment of alliteration was no longer 
studied, and thus was this kind of metre at length swaU 
lowed up and lost in our common Burlesque Alexandrine, 
or Anapestic verse ^ now never used but in ballads and 
pieces of light humour, as in the following song of Coti" 
science, and in that well-known doggrel, 

'^ A cobler there was, and he lived in a stall.** 

7 Consisting of four anapests, (^ ^ ") in which the accent 
rests upon every third syllable. This kind of veise, which I also 
call the Burlesque Alexandrine, (to distinguish it from the other 
Alexandrines of eleven and fourteen syllables, the parents of our 
lyric measure : see examples, page 147, &c.) was early applied by 
Robert of Gloucester to serious subjects. That writer's metre, 
like this of Langland*s, is formed on the Saxon models (each verse 
of his containing a Saxon distich) ; only instead of the internal 
alliterations adopted by Langland, he rather chose final rhymes, 
as the French poets have done since. Take a specimen. 

" The Saxons tho in ther power, tho thii were so rive, 
Seve kingdoflss made in Engelonde, and SHtlie but vive : 
The king of Northomberlond, and of Eastangle also. 
Of Kent, and of Westsex, and of the March, therto." 

Robert of Gloucester wrote in the western dialect, and his language 
differs exceedingly from that of other contemporary writers, who 
resided in the metropolis, or in the midland counties. Had the 
Heptarchy continued, our English language would probably have 
been as much distinguished for its different dialects as the Greek ; 
or at least as that of the several independent states of Italy. 



ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 295 

Bat although this kind of measure hath with us heen 
thus degraded, it still retains among the French its an- 
cient dignity ; their grand heroic verse of twelve sylla«^ 
bles^ is the same genuine offspring of the old alliterative 
metre of the ancient Gothic and Francic poets, stript like 
our Anapestic of its alliteration, and ornamented with 
rhyme ; but with this difference, that whereas this kind of 
verse hath been applied by us only to light and trivial 
subjects, to which, by its quick and lively measure, it 
seemed best adapted, our poets have let it remain in a 
more lax unconfined state ^ as a greater degree of severity 
and strictness would have been inconsistent vfith the light 
and airy subjects to which they have applied it. On the 
other hand, the French having retained this verse as the 
vehicle of their epic and tragic flights, in order to give 
it a stateliness and dignity, were obliged to confine it to 

s Or of thirteen syllables, in what they call a feminine verse. 
It is remarkable that the French alone have retained this old 
Gothic metre for their serious poems ; while the English, Spaniards, 
&c., have adopted the Italic verse of ten syllables, although the 
Spaniards, as well as we, anciently used a short-lined metre. I 
believe the success with which Petrarch, and perhaps one or two 
others, first used the heroic verse of ten syllables in Italian poesy, 
recommended it to the Spanish writers ; as it also did to our Chau- 
cer, who first attempted it in English ; and to his successors Lord 
Surrey, Sir Thomas Wyat, &c. ; who afterwards improved it and 
brought it to perfection. To Lord Surrey {we also owe the first 
introduction of blank verse in his versions of the second and fourth 
Books of the .ffineid, 1557, 4to. 

^ Thus our poets use this verse indifferently with twelve, eleven, 
and even ten syllables. For though regula^^y it consists of four 
anapests (v ^ ") or twelve syllables, yet they frequently retrench 
a syllable from the first or third anapest, and sometimes from both ; 
as in these instances from Prior, and from the following song of 
Consdenee; 

Wh6 h&B eer beSn &t Paris, mttst needs kn5w thS Greve, 
ThS fat&l rStreat 5f th' ttnfortfin&te brave. 
HS stept t5 him straight, Snd did him rSquIre. 



296 ON ALLITSRATIYE METRE. 

more exact laws of scansion ; they have therefore limited 
it to the number of twelve syllables ; and by making the 
cesura or pause as full and distinct as possible, and by 
other severe restrictions, have given it all the solemnity 
of which it was capable. The harmony of both, however, 
depends so much on the same flow of cadence and disposal 
of the pause, that they appear plainly to be of the same 
original ; and every French heroic verse evidently consists 
of the ancient d'lstich of their Francic ancestors : which, 
by the way, will account to us why this verse of the 
French so naturally resolves itself into two complete 
hemistichs. And, indeed, by making the csesura or pause 
always to rest on the last syllable of a word, and by 
tnaking a kind of pause in the sense, the French poets do 
in effect reduce their hemistichs to two distinct and 
independent verses: and some of their old poets have 
gone so far as to make the two hemistichs rhyme to each 
other ^ 

After all, the old alliterative and anapestic metre of the 
English poets, being chiefly used in a barbarous age and 
in a rude unpolished language, abounds with verses de- 
fective in length, proportion, and harmony, and therefore 
cannot enter into a comparison with the correct versiflca* 
tion of the best modem French writers; but making 
allowances for these defects, that sort of metre runs with 
a cadence so exactly resembling the French heroic Alex- 
andrine, that I believe no peculiarities of their versifica- 
tion can be produced which cannot be exactly matched 
in the alliterative metre. I shall give, by way of example, 
a few lines from the modem French poets, accommodated 
with parallels from the ancient poem of lAfe and Death ; 
in these I shall denote the caesura or pause by a peirpen- 



1 See instances in VHist. de la Poisie Frungoiw par Massieii, 
&c. In the same book are also specimens of alliterative French 
verses. 



OK ALLITERATIVE METRE. 297 

dicular line, and the cadence bj the marks of the Latin 
quantity. 

lA aiUxisfut toujourt \ un infant dH T HudSce ; 
All sh&ll drye \vlth thS dints | tL&t I deal with m} hands. 
L* hUmmt prudent vdU trap | tillnsUin U suit^ 
YondSr damsSl lis death j th&t dressSth hSr ttt tmlte. 

L* tntrip^i vSU mUuai \ it lH/antome/uU ', 

WhSn shS doleftUl]^ saw | h5w shS dang downe hir folke. 
Mime aHae yeux di Vh^uste \ un tnfide ht kiSrnb^ '. 
ThSn shS cast tip & crye | t5 th8 high king of heavfin. 
2>tt minsonffi toUjoun \ li wai dhneuri tndiiri, 
Th5u sh&lt bIttSrl]^e bye | 5r else th8 bookfi failfith. 

Poiir p&roUre honnile homme \ in un mo^, tl/HtU C eire ^. 
Thfis I fared throughe & fry the i whSre th8 fiowfirs vSre 

I roau]^e. 

To conclude ; the metre of Pierce PlowmatCt Vtsiom 
has no kind of affinity with what is commonly called 
blank verse ; yet has it a sort of harmony of its own, pro- 
ceeding not so much from its alliteration, as from the 
artful disposal of its cadence, and the contriyance of its 
pause ; so that when the ear is a little accustomed to it 
it is by no means unpleasing ; but claims all the merit 
of the French heroic numbers, only far less polished ; being 
sweetened, instead of their final rhymes, with the internal 
recurrence of similar sounds. 

This Essay will receive illustration from another speci- 
men in Warton's History of Eng&sh Poetry, vol. i. page 
d09, being the fragment of a MS. poem on the subject of 
Alexander the Great, in the Bodleian Library, which he 
supposes to be the same with number 44, in the Ashmol. 
MS. containing 27 passus, and beginning thus : 

Whener folk fastid [feasted, qu.'\ and fed, 

&7ne wolde thei her [i. e. hearl 
Some farand thing, &c. 

It is well observed by Mr. Tyrwhitt, on Chaucer's 
sneer at this old alliterative metre, (vol. iii. p. 805,) viz. 

> Catalina, A. 3. > Boileau Sat « Boil. Sat. 11. 



298 ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 



I am a Sotheme [i. e. Southern^ man. 



T cannot geste, rom, ram, raf, by my letter, 
that the fondness for this species of versification, &c. was 
retained longest in the Northern provinces ; and that 
the author of Pierce Plowman*t Visiom is, in the best 
MSS., called William, without any surname. See vol. iv. 
p. 74. 

ADDITIONS TO THE ESSAY ON THE ALLITERATIVE 

METRE. 

Since the foregoing Essay was first printed, the Editor 
hath met with some additional examples of the old allite- 
rative metre. 

The first is in MS.', which begins thus ; 

" Crist Crowned iSTyng, that on Cros didest \ 
And art Comfort of all Cire, tbow' kind go out of Cours, 
With thi //alwes in Heven ^Teried mote thu be, 
And tby TTorsbipful TFerkes FTorshiped evre, 
That aucbe Sondrj Sigaea Shevrest unto man, 
In Dremyng, in DrecchyngS, and in 2>erke swevenes." 

The author, from this proemium, takes occasion to give 
an account of a dream that happened to himself ; which 
he introduces with the following circumstances : 

" Ones y me Crdayned, as y have Ofte doon, 
With i^endes, and jPelawes, JPrendemen, and other ; 
And Ckught me in a Company on Corpus Christl even, 
Six, other ^ ASeven myle, oute of A^uthampton, 
To take ilfelodye, and il/irthes, among my Afakes ; 
With i?edyng of ROMA UNCES, and J?evelyng among, 
The Dym of the i)erkne«se /)rewe me into the west ; 
And beCon for to spryng in the Crey day. 
Than Xift y up my Xyddes, and Xoked in the sky, 
And iTnewe by the iTende Cours, hit clered in the est : 
Blyve y Busked me down, and to Bed went, 
For to Comforte my iSTynde, and Cacche a slepe." 

^ In a small 4to MS. containing 38 leaves, in private hands. 

« Didst dye. 7 Though. 

s Being overpowered. ^ t. e. either, or. 



ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 299 

He then describes his dream : 

" Metho light that y ^Toved on High, on an ^ill, 
And loked Z>oun on a Z>ale Z>epe8t of othre ; 
Ther y Sa,we in my ^Sighte a /Selcouthe peple ; 
The Multitude was so Afoche, it iWighte not be nombred. 
Methoughte y herd a Growned Kyngy of his Comunes axe 

A iSbleyne ^ ^S'ubsidie, to tS'usteyne his werres. 

***** 

With that a CTlerk iSTneled adowne and Carped these wordes, 

Zriege ik>rd, yif it you Xike to Listen a while, 
Som Sawea of -ftilomon y shall you iShewe -Sbne." 

The writer then gives a solemn lecture to kings on the 
art of governing. From the demand of subsidies ' to sus- 
teyne his werres/ I am inclined to believe this poem was 
composed in the reign of King Henry V., as the MS. ap- 
pears from a subsequent entry to have been written before 
the 9th of Henry VI. The whole poem contains but 
146 lines. 

The Alliterative Metre was no less popular among the 
old Scottish poets, than with their brethren on this side 
the Tweed. In Maitland's Collection of ancient Scottish 
Poems, MS. in the Pepysian library, is a very long poem 
in this species of versification, thus inscribed : 

Heir begins the Tretis of the Twa Marriit Women, and the Wedo 
compylit be Maister William Dunbar ^. 

" Upon the i^idsummer ewen ilf irriest of nichtis 
I itfuvit furth alane quhen as Midnight was past 
Besyd ane (rudlie Criene Crarth ^, full of Gay flouris 
jETegeit ^ of ane HvLge ^J'icht with //awthorne treeis 
Quairon ane Bird on ane Bransche so Birst out hir notis 
That nevir ane JBlythfuUer ^rd was on the Beuche*^ 
hard,*' &c. 
* Solemn. 

' Since the above was written, this poem hath been printed in 
*' Ancient Scottish Poems, &c., from the MS. Collection of Sir R. 
Maitland, of Lethington, knight, of London, 1786," 2 vols. 12mo. 
The two first lines are here corrected by that edition. 
3 Garden. ^ Hedged. ° Bough. 



800 ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 

The author pretends to overhear three gossips sitting 
in an arbour, and revealing all their secret methods of al- 
luring and governing the other sex :' it is a severe and 
humorous satire on bad women, and nothing inferior to 
Chaucer's Prologue to his Wife of Balh*8 Tale. As Dun- 
bar lived till about the middle of the sixteenth century, 
this poem was probably composed after Scoilish Field, 
(described above in p. t292,) which is the latest specimen 
I have met with written in England. This poem contains 
about 500 lines. 

But the current use of the Alliterative Metre in Scotland, 
appears more particularly from those popular vulgar pro- 
phecies, which are still printed for the use of the lower 
people in Scotland, under the names of Thomas the Ry- 
mer, Marvellous Merling, &c. This collection seems to 
have been put together after the accession of James I. to 
the crown of England, and most of the pieces in it are in 
the metre of Pierce PlowmafCt Visions. The first of them 
begins thus : 

" Merling saves in his book, vrho will i^ead ^gfat, 
Although his Mayings be uncouth, they iS'hall be true found. 
In the seventh chapter, read Tfhoso TFiU, 
One thousand and more after Christ^s birth,** &c. 

And the Prophesie of Beid: 

^* Betwixt the chief of Summer and the <S'ad winter ; 
Before the HesX of summer happen shall a war 
That £7urop*8 lands ^I'amestly shall be wrought 
And J57amest jE^nvy shall last but a while,** &c. 

So again the Prophesie ofBerlmgton: 

'* When the /^iby is jRaised, Reti is there none. 
But much /2&nconr shall /?ise in Rvrtv and plain, 
Much «Sbrrow is «Sben through a 5uth-hound 
That beares Horn&t in his ^Tead like a wyld jETart,** &c. 

In like metre is the Prophesie of Waldhave : 

" Upon 2k>wdon Xaw alone as I Xay, 
booking to the Xennox, as me Xief thought, 



ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 801 

The first ilforning of JIfay, il/edidne to seek 

For Jtfalice and Melody that Mored me sore/* &c 

And lastly, that entitled the Prophetie of GUdat : 

** When holy kirk is TTiacked and ITill has no ITit 
And Pastors are Pluckt, and PiVd without Pity 
When /dolatry /e In bns and Rfl 
And spiritual pastours are vexed away/* &c. 

It will be observed in the foregoing specimens, that the 
alliteration is extremely neglected, except in the third 
and fourth instances, although all the rest are written in 
imitation of the cadence used in this kind of metre. It 
may perhaps appear from an attentive perusal, that the 
poems ascribed to Berlington and Waldbave are more 
ancient than the others : indeed, the first and fifth appear 
evidently to have been new modelled, if not entirely com* 
posed, about the beginning of the last century, and are 
probably the latest attempts ever made in this species of 
verse. 

In this and the foregoing Essay are mentioned all the 
specimens I have met with of the Alliterative Metre with- 
out rhyme ; but instances occur sometimes in old manu- 
scripts, of poems written both with final rhymes and the 
internal cadence and alliterations of the metre of Pierce 
plowman. 



END OF THE ESSAY. 



302 THE COMPLAINT OF CONSCIENCE. 



The following Song, entitled The Complaini of Conscience, 
is printed from the Editor's folio manuscript. Some cor- 
ruptions in the old copy are here corrected ; but with 
notice to the reader wherever it was judged necessary, 
by inclosing the corrections between inverted ' commas.' 

As I walked of late by ' an ' wood side, 

To God for to meditate was my entent ; 

Where under a hawthorne I suddenlye spyed 

A silly poore creature ragged and rent, 

With bloody teares his face was besprent, 5 

His fleshe and his color consumed away, 
And his garments they were all mire, mucke, and 
clay. 

This made me muse, and much ' to ' desire 
To know what kind of man hee shold bee ; 
I stept to him straight, and did him require 10 

His name and his secretts to shew unto mee. 
His head he cast up, and wooful was hee, 
My name, quoth he, is the cause of my care. 
And makes me scorned, and left liere so bare. 

Then straightway he tumd him, and prayd * me ' sit 
downe, 15 

And I will, saithe he, declare my whole greefe ; 

Ver. 1, one. MS. V. 15, him. MS. 



THE COMPLAINT OF CONSCIENCE. 303 

My name is called Conscience : — ^wheratt he did 

frowne, 
He pined to repeate it, and grinded his teethe, 

* Thoughe now, silly wretche, Vm denyed all releef,' 

* Yet ' while I was young, and tender of yeeres, 20 
I was entertained with kinges, and with peeres. 

There was none in the court that lived in such fame, 

For with the kings councell ' I ' sate in commission ; 

Dukes, earles, and harrons esteemed of my name ; 

And how that I liv'd there needs no repetition : 25 

I was ever holden in honest condition, 

For howsoever the lawes went in Westminster-hall, 
When sentence was given, for me they wold call. 

No incomes at all the landlords wold take. 
But one pore peny, that was their fine ; 30 

And that they acknowledged to he for my sake. 
The poore wold doe nothing without councell mine : 
I ruled the world with the right line : 

For nothing was passed hetweene foe and friend, 
But Conscience was called to bee at * the ' end. 35 

Noe bargaines, nor merchandize merchants wold make 
But I was called a wittenesse therto : 
No use for noe money, nor forfett wold takej 
But I wold controule them, if that they did soe : 

* And ' that makes me live now in great woe, 40 
V. 19, not in MS. V. 23, he sate. MS. V. 35, an end. MS, 



304 THE COMPLAINT OF CONSCIENCE. 

For then came ia Pride, Sathan's disciple, 
That is now entertained with all kind of people. 

He brought with him three, whose names, Uhus they 

call,' 
That is Covetousnes, Lecherye, Usury, beside : 
They never prevailed, till they had wrought my 
downe-fall : 45 

Soe Pride was entertained, but Conscience decried. 
And * now ever since ' abroad have I tryed 

To have had entertainment with some one or other ; 
But I am rejected, and scorned of my brother. 

Then went I to the Court the gallants to winn, 50 
But the porter kept me out of the gate : 
To Bartlemew Spittle to pray for my sinne, 
They bade me goe packe, it was fitt for ray state ; 
Goe, goe, th reed-bare Conscience, and seeke thee a 
mate. 
Good Lord, long preserve my king, prince, and 
queene, 55 

With whom evermore I esteemed have been. 

Then went I to London, where once I did ' dwell :* 
But they bade away with me, when they knew my 

name; 
For he will undoe us to bye and to sell ! 

V. 43, they be these. MS. V. 46, was derided. MS. 

V. 63, packe me. MS. V. 57, wonne. Ma 



THE COMPLAINT OF CONSCIENCE* 805 

They bade me goe pack me, and hye me for shame : 60 

They lought at my raggs, and there had good game ; 

This is old threed-bare Conscience, that dwelt with 

saint Peter ; 
But they wold not admitt me to be a chimney- 
sweeper. 

Not one wold receive me, the Lord ' he' doth know :, 

I having but one poor pennye in my purse, 65 

On an awle and some patches I did it bestow ; 

'For' I thought better cobble shooes than doe worse. 

Straight then all the coblers began for to curse. 

And by statute wold prove me a rogue, and forlome, 

And whipp me out of towne to ' seeke ' where I 

was borne, 70 

Then did I remember, and call to my minde. 
The Court of Conscience where once I did sit : 
Not doubting but there I some favor shold find, 
For my name and the place agreed soe fit ; 
But there of my purpose I fayled a whit, 75 

For ' thoughe ' the judge us'd my name in everye 

' commission,' 
The lawyers with their quillets wold get ' my ' 
dismission. 

Then Westminster-hall was noe place for me : 
Good lord I how the lawyers began to assemble, 

y. 70, tee. MS. Y. 76, condicion. MS. Y. 77, get a. MS. 
VOL. II. X 



306 THE COMPLAINT OF CONSCIENCE. 

And fearfull they were, lest there I shold bee ! 80 
The silly poore clarkes began for to tremble ; 
I showed them my cause, and did not dissemble ; 
Soe they gave me some money my charges to beare, 
But swore me on a booke I must never come 
there. 

Next the Merchants said, Counterfeite, get thee 
away, 85 

Dost thou remember how wee thee fond ? 
We banisht thee the country beyond the salt sea, 
And sett thee on shore in the New-found land ; 
And there thou and wee most friendly shook hand, 
And We were right glad when thou didst refuse us ; 
For when we wold reape profitt here thou woldst 
accuse us. <91 

Then had I noe way, but for to goe on 
To Gentlemens houses of an ancyent name ; 
Declaring my greeffes, and there I made moane, 
* Telling ' how their forefathers held me in fame : 95 
And at letting their farmes * how always I came.' 
They sayd, Fye upon thee ! we may thee curse : 
* Theire ' leases continue, and we fare the worse. 

And then I was forced a begging to goe 

To husbandmens houses, whogreeved right sore, 100 

y. 95, And how. MS. 



THE COMPLAINT OF CONSCIENCE. 307 

And sware that their landlords had plagued them so, 
That they were not able to keepe open doore, 
Nor nothing had left to give to the poore : 
Therefore to this wood I doe me repayre, 
Where hepps and hawes, that is my best fare. 105 

Yet within this same desert some comfort I have 
Of Mercy, of Pittye, and of Almes-deeds ; 
Who have vowed to company me to my grave. 
Wee are ' all ' put to silence, and live upon weeds, 
* And hence such cold house-keeping proceeds ;' 110 

Our banishment is its utter decay. 

The which the riche glutton will answer one day. 

Why then, I said to him, me-thinks it were best 
To goe to the Clergie ; for dailye they preach 
Eche man to love you above all the rest ; 115 

Of Mercye, and Pittie, and Almes-' deeds,' they teach. 
O, said he, noe matter of a pin what they preach. 

For their wives and their children soe hange them 
upon. 

That whosoever gives almes they will ' give none. 

Then laid he him down, and turned him away, 120 
And prayd me to goe, and leave him to rest. 

V. 101, 80 sore. MS. V. 109, ilL MS. V. 110, not in MS. 

y. 119, almeB-deeds. Ma 

* We onght in juitice and truth to read * can/ 

X 2 



308 ' PLAIN TRUTH, AND 

I told him, I haplie might yet see the day 
For him and his fellowes to live with the best 
First, said he, banish Pride, then all England were 
blest : 
For then those wold love us, that now sell their 
land, 125 

And then good ' house-keeping wold revive ' out of 
hand, 

y. 126, houses every where wold be kept MS. 



II. 



ptafo Crut]ft, atitr SKtitr 3Ejg;tiorati(e. 

This excellent old ballad is preserved in the little ancient 
Miscellany, entitled, The Garland of Goodwill. Ignorance 
is here made to speak in the broad Somersetshire dialect. 
The scene we may suppose to be Glastonbury Abbey. 

TRUTH* 

God speed you, ancient father. 

And give you a good daye ; 
What is the cause, I praye you. 

So sadly here you staye ? 
And that you keep such gazing 5 

On this decayed place, 
The which, for superstition, 

Good princes down did raze ? 



blindl ignobakce. 309 

ignorance. 
Chill tell thee, by my vazen S 

That zometimes che have knowne 10 

A vair and goodly abbey 

Stand here of bricke and stone ; 
And many a holy vrier, 

As ich may say to thee, 
Within these goodly cloysters 15 

Che did full often zee. 

TRUTH. 

Then I must tell thee, father, 

In truthe and veritid, 
A sorte of greater hypocrites 

^ Thou couldst not likely see ; 20 

Deceiving of the simple 

With false and feigned lies : 
But such an order truly 

Christ never did devise. 

IGNORANCE. 

Ah ! ah ! che zmell thee now, man ; 25 

Che know well what thou art ; 
A vellow of mean learning, 

Thee was not worth a vart : 
Vor when we had the old lawCf 

A merry world was then ; 30 

1 1. e. faithen : u in the midlaad counties they say houten, closen, 
for hooiet, closes. A. 



810 PLAIN TRUTH, AND 

And every thing was plenty 
Among all zorts of men. 

TRUTH. 

Thou givest me an answer, 

As did the Jewes sometimes 
Unto the prophet Jereraye, 35 

When he accused their crimes : 
'Twas merry, sayd the people. 

And joyfull in our readme. 
When we did offer spice-cakes 

Unto the queen of heav*n. 40 

IGNORANCE. 

Chill tell thee what, good vellowe. 

Before the vriers went hence, 
A bushell of the best wheate 

Was zold vor vourteen pence ; 
And vorty egges a penny, 45 

That were both good and newe ; 
And this che zay my zelf have zeene, 

And yet ich am no J ewe. 

TRUTH. 

Within the sacred bible 

We find it written plain, 50 

The latter days should troublesome 

And dangerous be, certaine ; 
That we should be self-lovers, 

And charity wax colde ; 



I 



9 



BLIND IGNORANCE. 311 

Then 'tis not true religion 55 

That makes thee grief to holde. 

IGNORANCE. 

Chill tell thee my opinion plaine, 

And chouPd that well ye knewe, 
Ich care not for the bible booke ; 

Tis too big to be true. 60 

Our blessed ladyes psalter 

Zhall for my money goe ; 
Zuch pretty prayers, as there bee *, 

The bible cannot zhowe. 

TRUTH. 

Nowe hast thou spoken trulye, 65 

For in that book indeede 
No mention of our lady, 

Or Romish saint we read : 
For by the blessed Spirit 

That book indited was, 70 

And not by simple persons. 

As was the foolish masse. 

IGNORANCE. 

Cham zure they were not voolishe 
That made the masse, che trowe ; 

Why, man, 'tis all in Latine, 75 

And vooles no Latine knowe. 

Probably alluding to the illaminated Psalters, Missals, &c. 



312 PLAIN TRUTH, AND 

Were not our fathers wise men, 

And they did like it well ; 
Who very much rejoyced 

To heare the zacring bell ? 80 

TRUTH. 

But many kinges and prophets, 

As I may say to thee, 
Have wisht the light that you have, 

And could it never see : 
For what art thou the better 85 

A Latin song to heare. 
And understandest nothing, 

That they sing in the quiere ? 

IGNORANCE. 

O hold thy peace, che pray thee. 

The noise was passing trim 90 

To heare the vriers zinging. 

As we did enter in : 
And then to zee the rood-loft 

Zo bravely zet with saints ; — 
But now to zee them wandring 95 

My heart with zorrow vaints. 

TRUTH. 

The Lord did give commandment. 
No image thou shouldst make, 



BLIND IGNORANCE. 813 

Nor that unto idolatry 

You should your self betake : 100 

The golden calf of Israel 

Moses did therefore spoile ; 
And Baal's priests and temple 

Were brought to utter foile. 

IGNORANCE. 

But our lady of Walsinghame 1 05 

Was a pure and holy zaint, 
And many men in pilgrimage 

Did shew to her complaint* 
Yea with zweet Thomas Becketi 

And many other moe ; 110 

The holy maid of Kent * likewise 

Did many wonders zhowe. 

TRUTH. 

Such saints are well agreeing 

To your profession sure ; 
And to the men that made them 115 

So precious and so pure ; 
The one for being a traytoure, 

Met an untimely death ; 
The other eke for treason 

Did end her hateful breath. 120 

s By name Eliz. Barton, executed April 21, 1534. Stow, 
p. 570. 



314 PLAIN TRUTH, AND BLIND IGNORANCE. 

IGNORANCE. 

Yea, yea, it is no matter, 

Dispraise them how you wille : 
But zure they did much goodnesse ; 

Would they were with us stille ! 
We had our holy water, 125 

And holy bread likewise. 
And many holy reliques 

We zaw before our eyes. 

TRUTH . . 

And all this while they fed you 

With vaine and empty showe, 1 30 

Which never Christ commanded. 

As learned doctors knowe : 
Search then the holy scriptures, 

And thou shalt plainly see 
That headlong to damnation 1 35 

They alway trained thee. 

IGNORANCE. 

If it be true, good vellowe. 

As thou dost zay to mee. 
Unto my heavenly Fader 

Alone then will I flee : 140 

Believing in the Gospel, 

And passion of his Zon, 
And with the zubtil papistes 

Ich have for ever done. 



THE WAMDERINO JEW. 315 



III. 



Clfte 9E(an)ietins ^eto. 

The story of the Wandering Jew is of considerable 
antiquity : it had obtdned full credit in this part of the 
world before the year 1228, as we learn from Matthew 
Paris. For in that year, it seems^ there came an Arme- 
nian archbishop into England, to visit the shrines and 
reliques preserved in our churches, who, being enter- 
tained at the monastery of St. Alban's, was asked several 
questions relating to his country, &c. Among the rest, 
a monk, who sat near him, inquired, '* If he had ever seen 
or heard of the famous person named Joseph, that was so 
much talked of; who was present at our Lord's crucifixion 
and conversed with him, and who was still alive in con- 
firmation of the Christian faith." The archbishop an- 
swered. That the fact was true. And afterwards one of 
his train, who was well known to a servant of the abbot's, 
interpreting his master's words, told them in French, 
" That his lord knew the person they spoke of very well : 
that he had dined at his table but a little while before he 
left the East : that he had been Pontius Pilate's porter, 
by name Cartaphilus; who, when they were dragging 
Jesus out of the door of the Judgment-hall, struck him 
with his fist on the back, saying, " Go faster, Jesus, go 
faster, why dost thou linger ? " Upon which Jesus looked 
at him with a frown, and said, " I indeed am going, but 
thou shalt tarry till I come." Soon after he was converted, 
and baptized by the name of Joseph. He lives for ever, 
but at the end of every hundred years falls into an incur- 
able illness, and at length into a fit or ecstasy, out of which, 
when he recovers, he returns to the same state of youth 



316 THE WANDERING JEW. 

he was in when Jesus suffered, being then about thirty 
years of age. He remembers all the circumstances of the 
death and resurrection of Christ, the saints that arose 
with him, the composing of the Apostles' creed, their 
preaching and dispersion ; and is himself a very grave and 
holy person." This b the substance of Matthew Faris*8 
account, who was himself a monk of St. Alban's, and was 
living at the time when this Armenian archbishop made 
the above relation. 

Since his time, several impostors have appeared at in« 
tervab under the name and character of the Wandering 
Jew; whose several histories may be seen in Calmet's 
Dictionary of the Bible, See also the Thirkith Spy, vol. ii. 
book iii. let. 1 . The story that is copied in the follow- 
ing ballad is of one who appeared at Hamburgh in 1547, 
and pretended he had been a Jewish shoemaker at the 
time of Christ's crucifixion. The ballad, however, seems 
to be of later date. It is preserved in black-letter in 
the Pepys collection. 



When as in faire Jerusalem 

Our Saviour Christ did live, 
And for the sins of all the worlde 

His own deare life did give ; 
The wicked Jewes with scofFes and scomes 5 

Did dailye him molest, 
That never till he left his life, 

Our Saviour could not rest. 

When they had crown'd his head with thomes. 
And scourg'd him to disgrace, 10 



THE WANDERING JEW. 317 

In scornful! sort they led him forthe 

Unto his dying place, 
Where thousand thousands in the streete 

Beheld him passe along, 
Yet not one gentle heart was there, 15 

That pityeijd this his wrong. 

Both old and young reviled him, 

As in the streete he wente. 
And nought he found but churlish tauntes, 

By every ones consente : 20 

His owne deare cross he bore himselfe, 

A burthen far too great, 
Which made him in the streete to fainte. 

With blood and water sweat. 

■ 

Being weary thus, he sought for rest, 25 

To ease his burdened soule. 
Upon a stone ; the which a wretch 

Did churlishly controule ; 
And sayd, Awaye, thou king of Jewes, 

Thou shalt not rest thee here ; 30 

Pass on ; thy execution place 

Thou seest nowe draweth neare. 

And thereupon he thrust him thence ; 

At which our Saviour sayd, 
I sure will rest, but thou shalt walke, 35 

And have no journey stayed. 



318 THE WANDERING JEW. 

With that this cursed shoemaker, 

For offering Christ this wrong, 
Left wife and children, house and all, 

And went from thence along. 40 

Where after he had scene the bloude 

Of Jesus Christ thus shed. 
And to the crosse his bodye nail'd. 

Away with speed he fled 
Without returning backe againe 45 

Unto his dwelling place. 
And wandred up and downe the worlde, 

A runnagate most base. 

No resting could he finde at all. 

No ease, nor hearts content ; 50 

No house, nor home, nor biding place : 

But wandring forth he went 
From towne to towne in foreigne landes. 

With grieved conscience still. 
Repenting for the heinous guilt 55 

Of his fore-passed ill. 

Thus after some fewe ages past 

In wandring up and downe ; 
He much again desired to see 

Jerusalems renowne, 60 

But finding it all quite destroyd 

He wandred thence with woe, 



THE WANDERING JEW. 319 

Our Saviours wordes, which he had spoke, 
To verifie and showe. 

** ril rest, sayd hee, but thou shalt walke,'* 65 

So doth this wandring Jew 
From place to place, but cannot rest 

For seeing countries newe ; 
Declaring still the power of him, 

Whereas he comes or goes, 70 

And of all things done in the east. 

Since Christ his death, he showes. 

The world he hath still compast round 

And seene those nations strange, 
That hearing of the name of Christ, 75 

Their idol gods doe change : 
To whom he hath told wondrous thinges 

Of time forepast, and gone, 
And to the princes of the worlde 

Declares his cause of moane : 80 

Desiring still to be dissolved. 

And yeild his mortal breath ; 
But, if the Lord hath thus decreed. 

He shall not yet see death. 
For neither lookes he old nor young, 85 

But as he did those times, 
When Christ did suffer on the crosse 

For mortall sinners crimes. 



$20 THE WANDERING JEW, 

He hath past throughe many a foreigne place, 

Arabia, Egypt, Africa, 90 

Grecia, Syria, and great Thrace, 

And throughout all Hungaria. 
Where Paul and Peter preached Christ, 

Those blest apostles deare ; 
There he hath told our Saviours wordes, 95 

In countries &r, and neare. 

And lately in Bohemia, 

With many a German towne ; 
And now in Flanders, as tis thought, 

He wandreth up and downe : 100 

Where learned men with him conferre 

Of those his lingering dayes. 
And wonder much to heare him tell 

His joumeyes, and his wayes. 

If people give this Jew an almes, 105 

The most that he will take 
Is not above a groat a time : 

Which he, for Jesus' sake, 
Will kindlye give unto the poore. 

And thereof make no spare, [110 

Affirming still that Jesus Christ 

Of him hath dailye care. 

He ne'er was scene to laugh nor smile, 
But weepe and make great moane ; 



THE WANDERING JEW. 321 * 

Lamenting still his miseries, 115 

And dayes forepast and gone : 
If he heare any one blaspheme, 

Or take God*s name in vaine. 
He tells them that they crucifie 

Their Saviour Christe againe. 120 

If you had seene his death, saith he, 

As these mine eyes have done, 
Ten thousand thousand times would yee 

His torments think upon : 
And suffer for his sake all paine 1 25 

Of torments, and all woes. 
These are his wordes and eke his life 

Whereas he comes or goes. 



VOL. II. 



322 THB LTE. 



IV. 

§ 

BT 8I& WALTER RALBIOH, 

Is found in a very scarce miscellany, entitled '^ Davison's 
Poems, or a poeticall Rapsodie, divided into sixe books. 
. . . The 4th impression newly corrected and augmented* 
and put into a forme more pleasing to the reader. Lond. 
1621, 12mo." This poem is reported to have been written 
by its celebrated author the night before his execution, 
Oct. 29, 1618. Bat this must be a mistake, for there were 
at least two editions of Davison's Poems before that time, 
one in 1608 ^ the other in 161 P. So that unless this 
poem was an after-insertion in the fourth edit, it must 
have been written long before the death of Sir Walter : 
perhaps it was composed soon after his condemnation in 
1603.— See Oldys's Life of Sir Walter Raleigh, p. 173, fol. 

GoE, soule, the bodies guest. 
Upon a thankelesse arrant ; 
Feare not to touche the best, 
The truth shall be thy warrant : 

Goe, since I needs must dye, 5 

And give the world the lye. 

Goe tell the court, it glowes 
And shines like rotten wood ; 

A Catalogue of T. Rawlinaon, 1727. 

' Catalogue of Sion Coll. library. This is either lost or mislaid. 



THE LYB. 323 

Goe tell the church it showes 

What's good, and doth no good : 10 

If church and court reply, 
Then give them both the lye. 

Tell potentates they live, 

Acting by others actions ; 
Not lov'd unlesse they give, 15 

Not strong but by their factions ; 
If potentates reply, 
Give potentates the lye. 

Tell men of high condition, 

That rule affairs of state, 20 

Their purpose is ambition, 
Their practise onely hate { 
And if they once reply. 
Then give them aU the lye. 

Tell them that brave it most, 25 

They beg for more by spending, 
Who in their greatest cost 

Seek nothing but commending ; 
And if they make reply. 
Spare not to give the lye. 30 

Tell zeale, it lacks devotion ; 
Tell love, it is but lust ; 

y2 



324 THE LTE.. 

Tell time, it is but motion ; 
Tell flesh, it is but dust ; 

And wish them not reply, 35 

For thou must give the lye. 

Tell age, it daily wasteth ; 

Tell honour, how it alters ; 
Tell beauty, how she blasteth ; 

Tell favour, how she falters ; 40 

And as they shall reply, 
Give each of them the lye. 

Tell wit, how much it wrangles 
In tickle points of nicenesse : 
Tell wisedome, she entangles 45 

Herselfe in over-wisenesse ; 
And if they do reply, 
Straight give them both the lye. 

Tell physicke of her boldnesse ; 

Tell skill, it is pretension ; 50 

Tell charity of coldness ; 
Tell law, it is contention ; 
And as they yield reply. 
So give them still the lye. 

Tell fortune of her blindnesse ; 55 

Tell nature of decay ; 



THE LTE. 325 

Tell friendship of unkindnesse ; 
Tell justice of delay : 
And if they dare reply, 
Then give them all the lye. 60 

Tell arts, they have no soundnesse. 

But vary by esteeming ; 
Tell schooles, they want profoundnesse, 
^nd stand too much on seeming : 

If arts and schooles reply, 65 

Give arts and schooles the lye. 

Tell faith, it's fled the citie ; 

Tell how the countrey erreth ; 
Tell, manhood shakes off pitie ; 

Tell, vertue least preferreth : 70 

And, if they doe reply. 
Spare not to give the lye. 

So, when thou hast, as I 

Commanded thee, done blabbing. 
Although to give the lye 75 

Deserves no less than stabbing. 
Yet stab at thee who will, 
No stab the soule can kill. 



326 VERSES BT KING JAMES I. 



V. 

In the first edition of this book were inserted, by way of 
specimen of His Majesty's poetic talents, some Punning 
Verses made on the disputations at Stirling : but it hay- 
ing been suggested to the Editor, that the king only gave 
the quibbling commendations in prose, and that some ob- 
sequious court-rhymer put them into metre ^, it was 
thought proper to exchange them for two sonnets of King 
James's own composition. James was a great versifier, 
and therefore out of the multitude of his poems, we have 
here selected two^ which (to show our impartiality) are 
written in his best and his worst manner. The first 
would not dishonour any writer of that time ; the second 
is a most complete example of the Bathos. 



A SONNET ADDRESSED BT KINO JAMES TO HIS SON 

PRINCE HENRT. 

From King James's Works in folio : where is also 
printed another, called His Majesty's own Sonnet : it 
would perhaps be too cruel to infer from thence that this 
was NOT His Msgesty's own Sonnet. 

God gives not kings the stile of Gods in vaine, 
For on his throne his scepter do they swey : 
And as their subjects ought them to obey, 

So kings should feare and serve their God againe, 

1 See a folio entitled 7K« Mutes Wdoome to King Jamet, 



VERSES BT KIKO JAMES I. 327 

If then ye would enjoy a happie reigne, 5 

Observe the statutes of our heavenly King ; 
And from his law make all your laws to spring ; 

Since his lieutenant here ye should remaine. 

Rewarde the just, be stedfast, true and plaine ; 
Represse the proud, maintayning aye the right ; 1 
Walke always so, as ever in His sight, 

Who guardes the godly, plaguing the prophane. 
And so ye shall in princely vertues shine. 
Resembling right your mightie King divine. 



A SONNET OCCASIONED BY THE BAD WEATHER WHICH 
HINDERED THE SPORTS AT NEW-MARKET 
IN JANUARY, 1616. 

This is printed from Drummond of Hawthornden*8 
Works, folio : where also may be seen some verses of 
Lord Stirling upon this Sonnet, which concludes with the 
finest anti-climax I remember to have seen. 

How cruelly these catives do conspire ? 

What loathsome love breeds such a baleful band 
Betwixt the cankred king of Greta land \ 

That melancholy old and angry sire, 

And him, who wont to quench debate and ire 5 

Among the Romans, when his ports were closed ' ? 

' Saturn. ' Janiu. 



328 KING JOHN AND THE 

But now his double face is still disposed. 
With Saturn's help, to freeze us at the fire. 

The earth ore-covered with a sheet of snow, 
Refuses food to fowl, to bird, and beast : 10 

The chilling cold lets every thing to grow, 
And surfeits cattle with a starving feast. 

Curs*d be that love and inought * continue short, 

Which kills all creatures, and doth spoil our sport. 

* f. e. may it. 



VI. 



Itfns Jojbn anti iit Miot of €mUvbuvp. 

The common popular ballad of King John and the Abbot 
seems to have been abridged and modernised about the 
time of James I. from one much older, entitled King 
John and the Bishop of Canterbury, The Editor's folio MS. 
contains a copy of this last, but in too corrupt a state to 
be reprinted ; it however afforded many lines worth re- 
viviug, which will be found inserted in the ensuing stanzas. 
The archness of the following questions and answers 
hath been much admired by our old ballad-makers ; for 
besides the two copies above mentioned, there is extant 
another ballad on the same subject, (but of no great an* 
tiquity or merit,) entitled, King Olfrey and the AbbotK 
Lastly, about the time of the civil wars, when the cry ran 

^ See the collection of Historical Ballads, 3 vols., 1727. Mr. 
Wise supposes Olfrey to be a corruption of Alfred, in his pamphlet 
concerning the Whit^ Horse in Berkshire, p. 15. 



ABBOT OF CAHTERBURT. 329 

against the bbhops, some Puritan worked up the same 
story into a very doleful ditty, to a solemn tune, concern- 
ing " Ring Henry and a Bbhop ;** with this stinging 
moral : 

'* Unlearned men hard matters out can find, 
When learned bishops princes eyes do blind." 

The following is chiefly printed from an ancient black- 
letter copy, to " The tune of Derry down." 



An ancient story He tell you anon 
Of a notable prince, that was called king John ; 
And he ruled England with maine and with might. 
For he did great wrong, and maintein*d little right. 

And He tell you a story, a story so merry e, 5 

Concerning the Abbot of Canterburye ; 
How for his house-keeping, and high renowne, 
They rode poste for him to fair London towne. 

An hundred men, the king did heare say, 

The abbot kept in his house every day ; 10 

And fifty golde chaynes, without any doubt, 

In velvet coates waited the abbot about. 

How now, father abbot, I heare it of thee. 
Thou keepest a farre better house than mee, 
And for thy house-keeping and high renowne, 15 
I feare thou work'st treason against my crown. 



330 KING JOHN AND THE 

My liege, quo' the abbot, I would it were knowne, 
I never spend nothing, but what is my owne ; 
And I trust, your grace will doe me no deere, 
For spending of my owne true-gotten geere. 20 

Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is highe, 
And now for the same thou needest must dye ; 
For except thou canst answer me questions three, 
Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodie. 

And first, quo' the king, when I'm in this stead, 25 
With my crowne of golde so faire on my head, 
Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe, 
Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worthe. 

Secondlye, tell me, without any doubt, 
How soone I may ride the whole world about. 30 
And at the third question thou must not shrink, 
But tell me here truly what I do think. 

O, these are hard questions for my shallow witt. 
Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet : 
But if you will give me but three weekes space, 35 
He do my endeavour to answer your grace. 

Now three weeks space to thee will I give, 
And this is the longest time thou hast to live ; 
For if thou dost not answer my questions three, 
Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to mee. 40 



ABBOT OF CANTERBURY. 331 

Away rode the abbot all sad at that word, 
And he rode to Cambridge, and Oxenford ; 
But never a doctor there was so wise, 
That could with his learning an answer devise. 

Then home rode the abbot of comfort so cold, 45 
And he mett his shepheard a going to fold : 
How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome home ; 
What newes do you bring us from good king John ? 

" Sad newes, sad newes, shepheard, I must give ; 
That I have but three days more to live : 50 

For if I do not answer him questions three. 
My head will be smitten from my bodle. 

The first is to tell him there in that stead, 
With his crowne of golde so fair on his head, 
Among all his liege men so noble of birth, 55 

To within one penny of what he is worth. 

The seconde, to tell him, without any doubt. 
How soone he may ride this whole world about : 
And at the third question I must not shrinke, 
But tell him there truly what he does thinke.'* 60 

Now cheare up, sire abbot, did you never hear yet. 
That a fool he may learn a wise man witt ? 
Lend me horse, and serving men, and your apparel, 
And m ride to London to answere your quarrel. 



332 XING JOHN AND THE 

Nay frowne not, if it hath bia told unto mee, 65 

I am like your lordship, as ever may bee : 

And if you will but lend me your gowne, 

There is none shall knowe us at fair London towne. 

Now horses, and serving-men thou shalt have, 
With sumptuous array most gallant and brave ; 70 
With crozier, and miter, and rochet, and cope, 
Fit to appeare 'fore our fader the pope. 

Now welcome, sire abbot, the king he did say, 
Tis well thou'rt come back to keepe thy day ; 
For and if thou canst answer my questions three, 75 
Thy life and thy living both saved shall bee. 

And first, when thou seest me here in this stead. 
With my crown of golde so fair on my head. 
Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe, 
Tell me to one penny what I am worth. 80 

" For thirty pence our Saviour was sold 
Amonge the false Jewes, as I have bin told ; 
And twenty-nine is the worth of thee, 
For I thinke, thou art one penny worser than hee." 

The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel% 85 
I did not think I had been worth so littel ! 



« XI 



Meaning probably St Botolph. 



ABBOT OF CANTERBURY. 333 

— ^Now secondly tell mee, without any doubt, 
How soone I may ride this whole world about. 

" You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same, 
Until the next morning he riseth againe ; 90 

And then your grace need not make any doubt, 
But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about." 

The king he laughed, and swore by St. Jone, 

I did not think, it could be gone so soone ! 

— Now from the third question thou must not shrinke, 

But tell me here truly what I do thinke. 96 

" Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry : 
You thinke I'm the abbot of Canterbury ; 
But I'm his poor shepheard, as plain you may see, 
That am come to beg pardon for him and for mee.*' 

The king he laughed, and swore by the masse, 101 
He make thee lord abbot this day in his place ! 
" Now naye, my liege, be not in such speede. 
For alacke I can neither write, ne reade." 

Four nobles a weeke, then I will give thee, 105 

For this merry jest thou hast showne unto mee ; 
And tell the old abbot when thou comest home, 

Thou hast brought him a pardon from good king John. 

* * 

# 



834 YOU MEANBR BEAUTIES. 



VII. 

This little sonnet was written by Sir Henry Wotton, 
Knight, on that amiable princess, Elizabeth, daughter of 
James I. and wife of the Elector Palatine, who was 
chosen King of Bohemiai Sept. 5, 1619. The conse- 
quences of this fatal election are well known : Sir Henry 
Wotton, who in that and the following year was employed 
in seyeral embassies in Germany on behalf of this unfor- 
tunate lady, seems to have had an uncommon attachment 
to her merit and fortunes, for he gave away a jewel worth 
a thousand pounds, that was presented to him by the em- 
peror, *' because it came from an enemy to his royal mis- 
tress the Queen of Bohemia." See Biogr. Britan. 

This song is printed from the Re&quus Wottoniarue 
1651, with some corrections from an old MS. copy. 

You meaner beauties of the night. 

That poorly satisfie our eies 
More by your number, than your light ; 

You common people of the skies, 

What are you when the Moon shall rise ? 5 

Ye violets that first appeare, 

By your pure purple mantles known 

Like the proud virgins of the yeare, 
As if the Spring were all your own ; 
What are you when the Rose is blown ? 10 



THE OLD AND YOUNO COURTIER. 335 

Ye curious chaunters of the wood, 

That warble forth dame Nature's layes, 
Thinking your passions understood 

By your weak accents : what's your praise, 
When Philomell her voyce shall raise ? 15 

So when my mistris shal be seene 

In sweetnesse of her looks and minde ; 

By virtue firsts then choyce a queen ; 
Tell me, if she was not designed 
Th' eclypse and glory of her kind ? 20 



VIII. 

Cj^e <@llr anlr ^onng €ouvtitv. 

This excellent old song, the subject of which is a com- 
parison between the manners of the old gentry, as still 
subsisting in the times of Elizabeth, and the modern re- 
finements affected by their sons in the reigns of her 
successors, is given, with corrections, from an ancient 
black-letter copy in the Fepys collection, compared with 
another printed among some miscellaneous ** poems and 
songs" in a book entitled Le Prince (T Amours 1660, 8vo. 

An old song made by an aged old pate, 
Of an old worshipful gentleman, who had a greate 
estate. 



336 THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER. 

That kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate, 
And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate ; 

Like an old courtier of the queen's, 

And the queen's old courtier. 

With an old lady, whose anger one word asswages ; 

They every quarter paid their old servants their wages. 

And never knew what belonged to coachmen, foot- 
men, nor pages. 

But kept twenty old fellows with blue coats and 
badges ; 
Like an old courtier, &c. 

With an old study fill'd full of learned old books, 
With an old reverend chaplain, you might know him 

by his looks. 
With an old buttery hatch worn quite off the hooks. 
And an old kitchen, that maintain'd half a dozen old 

cooks : 
Like an old courtier, &c. 

With an old hall, hung about with pikes, guns, and 

bows. 
With old swords, and bucklers, that had borne many 

shrewde blows. 
And an old frize coat, to cover his worship's trunk 

hose. 
And a cup of old sherry, to comfort his copper nose ; 
Like an old courtier, &c. 



THE OLD AND TOUNG COURTIER. 337 

With a good old fashion, when Christmasse was 

corae, 
To call in all his old neighbours with bagpipe and 

drum, 
With good chear enough to furnish every old room, 
And old liquor able to make a cat speak, and man 

dumb, 
Like an old courtier, &c. 

With an old falconer, huntsman, and a kennel of 

hounds. 
That never hawked, nor hunted, but in his own 

grounds, 
Who, like a wise man, kept himself within his own 

bounds. 
And when he dyed gave every child a thousand good 

pounds ; 
Like an old courtier, &c. 

But to his eldest son his house and land he assigned, 
Charging him in his will to keep the old bountifull 

mind. 
To be good to his old tenants, and to his neighbours 

be kind : 
But in the ensuing ditty you shall hear how he was 
inclined ; 
Like a young courtier of the king's. 
And the king's young courtier. 

VOL. II. z 



838 THE OLD AKB TOT7NO COURTIEB. 

Like a flourishmg young gallant, newly come to his 
land. 

Who keeps a brace of painted madams at his com- 
mand, 

And takes up a tliousand pound upon his father's land, 

And gets drunk in a tavern, till he can neither go 
nor stand ; 
Like a young courtier, &c. 

With a new-fangled lady, that is dainty, nice, and 
spare. 

Who never knew what belonged to good house-keep- 
ing, or care. 

Who buyes gaudy-color'd fans to play with wanton 
air. 

And seven or eight different dressings of other 
womens hair ; 
Like a young courtier, &c. 

With a new-fashion'd ball, built where the old one 

stood. 
Hung round with new pictures, that do the poor no 

good. 
With a fine marble chimney, wherein bums neither 

coal nor wood. 
And a new smooth shovelboard, whereon no victuals 

ne*er stood ; 
Like a young courtier, &c» 



THE OLD AND T0T7NG COURTIER. 339 

With a new study, stuft full of pamphlets, and plays, 
And anew chaplain, that swears faster than he prays, 
With a new buttery hatch, that opens once in four or 

five days. 
And a new French cook, to devise fine kickshaws, 

and toys ; 
Like a young courtier, &c. 

With a new fashion, when Christmas is drawing on. 
On a new journey to London straight we all must 

begone, 
And leave none to keep house, but our new porter 

John, 
Who relieves the poor with a thump on the back 

with a stone ; 
. Like a young courtier, &c. 

With a new gentleman-usher, whose carriage is com- 

pleat, 
With a new coachman, footman, and pages to carry 

up the meat. 
With a waiting-gentlewoman, whose dressing is very 

neat. 
Who when her lady has din'd, lets the servants not eat ; 
Like a young courtier, &c. 

With new titles of honour bought with his father's 

old gold. 
For which sundry of his ancestors old manors are sold ; 

1! 



3^0. SIR JOHN suckling's camfaignb. 

And this is the course most of our new gallants hold, 
Which makes that good house-keeping is now grown 
so cold, 
Among the young courtiers of the king. 

Or the king's young courtiers. 

# « 



IX. 



When the Scottish covenanters rose up in arms, and ad- 
vanced to the English borders in 1689, many of the cour- 
tiers complimented the king by raising forces at their own 
expense. Among these, none were more distinguished 
than the gallant Sir John Suckling, who raised a troop of 
horse, so richly accoutred, that it cost him 12,000/. The 
like expensive equipment of other parts of the army 
made the king remark, that "the Scots would fight 
stoutly, if it were but for the Englishmen's fine cloaths.'' 
[Lloyd's Memoirs.] When they came to action, the 
rugged Scots proved more than a match for the fine 
showy English : many of whom behaved remarkably ill, 
and among the rest this splendid troop of Sir John Suck- 
ling's. 

This humorous pasquil has been generally supposed to 
have been written by Sir John, as a banter upon himself. 
Some of his contemporaries, however, attributed it to Sir 
John Mennis, a >«it of those times, among whose poems it 
is printed in a small poetical miscellany, entitled, *' Musa- 
rum delicisB : or the Muses recreation, containing several 
pieces of poetique wit, 2nd edition. By Sir J. M. [Sir 



SIR JOHN suckling's campaigne. 341 

John Mennis] and Ja. S. [James Smith.] London, 1656, 
ISmo.** ISee Wood*8 Athefus, ii. 397, 418.] In that 
copy is subjoined an additional stanza, which probably 
was written by this Sir John Mennis, viz. 

*"* But now there is peace, he*8 retum'd to increase 
His money, which lately he spent-a 
But his lost honour must lye still in the dust ; 
At Barwick away it went-a." 



Sir John he got him an ambling nag, 

To Scotland for to ride-a, 
With a hundred horse more, all his own he swore, 

To guard him on every side-a. 

No Errant-knight ever went to fight 5 

With halfe so gay a bravada, 
Had you seen but his look, you*ld have sworn on 
a book, 

Hee*]d have conquered a whole armada. 

The ladies ran all to the windows to see 

So gallant and warlike a sight-a, 10 

And as he pass*d by, they said with a sigh, 
Sir John, why will you go fight-a ? > 

But he, like a cruel knight, spurr'd on ; 

His heart would not relent-a. 
For, till he came ther^, what had he to fear ? 15 

Or why should he repent-a ? 



342 SIR JOHN SUCKLING 8 CAMPAIGNS. 

The king (God bless him I) had siDgular hopes 

Of him and all his troop-a : 
The borderers they, as they met him on the way. 

For joy did hollow and whoop-a« 20 

None lik*d him so well, as his own colonel!. 
Who took him for John de Wert-a ; 

But when there were shows of gunning and blows. 
My gallant was nothing so pert-a. 

For when the Scots army came within sight, 25 

And all prepared to fight-a. 
He ran to his tent, they ask'd what he meant. 

He swore he must needs goe sh*te-a. 

The colonell sent for him back agen, 

To quarter him in the van-a, 30 

But Sir John did swear, he would not come there, 

To be kiird the very first man-a. 

To cure his fear, he was sent to the reare, 

Some ten miles back, and more-a ; 
Where Sir John did play at trip and away, 35 

And ne'er saw the enemy more-a. 

Yer. 22. John de Wert was a German general of great reputa- 
tion, and the terror of the French in the reign of Loais XIII. 
Hence his name hecame proverhial in France, where he was called 
De Vert See Bajle^s Dictionary; 



TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON. 343 



X. 

Co VUitsi (vom H^tiAon. 

This excellent sonnet, which possessed a high degree of 
fame among the old Cavaliers, was written by Colonel 
Richard Lovelace, during his confinement in the Gate- 
house, Westminster : to which he was committed by the 
House of Commons, in April, 1642, for presenting a peti- 
tion from the county of Kent, requesting them to restore 
the king to hb rights, and to settle the government. See 
Wood's Athena, vol. ii. p. 228, and Lysons* Environs of 
London, vol. i. p. 109 ; where may be seen at large the 
affecting story of this elegant writer, who, after having 
been distinguished for every gallant and polite accom- 
plishment, the pattern of his own sex, and the darling of 
the ladies, died in the lowest wretchedness, obscurity, and 
want, in 1658. 

Th'is song is printed from a scarce volume of his poems, 
entitled Lucasla, 1649, 12mo, collated with a copy in the 
Editor's folio MS. 



When love with unconfined wings 

Hovers within my gates, 
And my divine Althea brings 

To whisper at my grates ; 
When I lye tangled in her haire. 

And fetter'd with her eye, 
The birds that wanton in the aire, 

Know no such libertye. 



344 TO ALTHSA PROM PRISON. 

When flowing cups run swiflly round 

With no allaying Thames, 10 

Our carelesse heads with roses crown*d, 

Our hearts with loyal flames ; 
When thirsty griefe in wine we steepe, 

When healths and draughts goe free, 
Fishes, that tipple in the deepe, 15 

Know no such libertie. 

When, linnet-like, conflned I 

With shriller note shall sing 
The mercy e, sweetness, majesty e> 

And glories of my king ; 20 

When I shall voyce aloud how good 

He is, how great should be, 
Th' enlarged windes, that curie the flood. 

Know no such libertie. 

Stone trails doe not a prison make, 25 

Nor iron barres a cage, 
Mindes, innocent and quiet, take 

That for an hermitage : 
If I have freedom in my love, 

And in my soule am free, 30 

Angels alone, that soare above. 

Enjoy such libertie. 



Ver. 10, With woe-allaying themes. MS. Thames Is here used 
for water in general. 



THE DOWNFALL OF CHA.R1NG-CR0SS. 345 



XL 



Charino-ceosb, as it stood before the civil wars, was one 
of those beautiful Gothic obelisks erected to conjugal 
affection by Edward I., who built such aa one wherever 
the hearse of his beloved Eleanor rested in its way from 
Lincolnshire to Westminster. But neither its ornamental 
situation, the beauty of its structure, nor the noble design 
of its erection, (which did honour to humanity,) could 
preserve it from the merciless zeal of the times : for, in 
1647, it was demolished by order of the House of Com- 
mons, as popish and superstitious. This occasioned the 
following not unhumorous sarcasm, which has been often 
printed among the popular sonnets of those times. 

The plot referred to in ver. I7, was that entered into by 
Mr. Waller the poet, and others, with a view to reduce 
the city and tower to the service of the king, for which 
two of them, Nathaniel Tomkins and Richard Chaloner, 
suffered death, July 5, 1643. Vide Athen. Ox. ii. 24. 



Undone, undone the lawyers are, 

They wander about the towne, 
Nor can find the way to Westminster, 

Now Charing-cross is downe : 
At the end of the Strand, they make a stand, 5 

Swearing they are at a loss. 
And chafBng say, that*s not the way, 

They must go by Charing-cross. 



346 THE DOWNFALL OF CHARINQ-CROflS. 

The parliament to vote it down 

Conceived it very fitting, 10 

For fear it should fall, and kill them all. 

In the house, as they were sitting. 
They were told, god-wot, it had a plot, 

Which made them so hard-hearted, 
To give command, it should not stand, 15 

But he taken down and carted. 

Men talk of plots, this might have been worse 

For any thing I know, 
Than that Tomkins, and Chaloner, 

Were hang'd for long agoe. 20 

Our parliament did that prevent, 

And wisely them defended, 
For plots they will discover still, 

Before they were intended. 

But neither man, woman, nor child, 25 

Will say, I'm confident. 
They ever heard it speak one word 

Against the parliament. 
An informer swore, it letters bore. 

Or else it had been freed : 30 

ril take, in troth, my Bible oath. 

It could neither write, nor read. 

The committee said, that verily 
To popery it was bent ; 



THE DOWNFALL OF CHARING-CROSS. 34:7 

For ought I know, it might be so, 35 

For to church it never went. 
What with excise, and such device, 

The kingdom doth begin 
To think you'll leave them ne'er a cross, 

Without doors nor within, 40 

Methinks the common-council shou'd 

Of it have taken pity, 
'Cause, good old cross, it always stood 

So firmly to the city. 
Since crosses you so much disdain 45 

Faith, if I were as you. 
For fear the king should rule again, 

Vd pull down Tibum too. 



*«* Whitelocke says, ** May 7, 1643, Cheapside-cross 
and other crosses were voted down,** &c. But this vote 
was not put ia execution with regard to Charing-cross 
till four years after, as appears from Lilly's * Observations 
on the Life, &c. of King Charles/ viz. " Cbaring-cross, 
we know, was pulled down 1647, in June, Jaly, and 
August. Part of the stones were converted to pave be- 
fore Whitehall. I have seen knife-hafts made of some of 
the stones, which, being well polished, looked like mar- 
ble." Ed. 1715, p. 18, 12mo. 

See an account of the pulling down Cheapside-cross, 
in the Supplement to Gent, Mag, 1764. 



348 LOYALTY CONFINED. 



XII. 

Eopaltp Confinetr. 

This excellent old song is preserved in David Lloyd's 
'* Memoires of those that suffered in the caase of Charles 
I." London, 1668, fol. p. 96. He speaks of it as the com- 
position of a worthy personage, who suffered deeply in 
those times, and was still living with no other reward than 
the conscience of having suffered. The author's name 
he has not mentioned, but if tradition may be credited, 
this song was written by Sir Roger L' Estrange. Some 
mistakes in Lloyd's copy are corrected by two others, one 
in MS., the other in the *' Westminster Drollery, or a 
choice Collection of Songs and Poems,, 1671," 12mo. 

Beat on, proud billows ; Boreas blow ; 

Swell, curled waves, high as Jove's roof; 
Your incivility doth show, 

That innocence is tempest proof; 
Though surly Nereus frown, my thoughts are calm ; 
Then strike, Affliction, for thy wounds are balm. 6 

That which the world miscalls a jail, 

A private closet is to me : 
Whilst a good conscience is my bail. 

And innocence my liberty : 10 

Locks, bars, and solitude, together met, 
Make me no prisoner, but an anchoret. 



i;.OYALTY CONFINED, 349 

I, whilst I wisht to be retir'd, 

Into this private room was tum'd : 
As if their wisdoms had conspir'd 15. 

The salamander should be burn'd ; 
Or like those sophists, that would drown a fish. 
I am constrain'd to suffer what I wish. 

The cynick loves his poverty ; 

The pelicaa her wilderness ; 20 

And 'tis the Indian's pride to be 
Naked on frozen Caucasus : 
Contentment cannot smart, Stoicks we see 
Make torments easie to their apathy. 

These manacles upon my arm 25 

I, as my mistress' favours, wear ; 
And for to keep my ancles warm, 
I have some iron shackles there : 
These walls are but my garrison ; this cell, 
Which men call jail, doth prove my citadel. 3D 

I'm in the cabinet lockt up. 

Like some high-prized margarite, 
Or, like the great mogul or pope. 

Am cloyster'd up from publick sight : 
Retiredness is a piece of majesty, 35 

And thus proud sultan, I'm as great as thee. 

Here sin for want of food must starve. 
Where tempting objects are not seen ; 



350 LOTALTT CONFINED. 

And these strong walls do only serve 

To keep vice out, and keep me in : 40 

Malice of late's grown charitable sure, 
I'm not committed, but am kept secure. 

So he that struck at Jason's life ^, 

Thinking t' have made his purpose sure, 
By a malicious friendly knife 45 

Did only wound him to a cure : 
Malice, I see, wants wit ; for what is meant 
Mischief, oft-times proves favour by th' event. 

When once my prince affliction hath. 

Prosperity doth treason seem ; 50 

And to make smooth so rough a path, 
I can learn patience from him : 
Now not to suffer shews no loyal heart. 
When kings want ease subjects must bear a part. 

What though I cannot see my king . 55 

Neither in person or in coin ; 
Yet contemplation is a thing 

That renders what I have not, mine : 
My king from me what adamant can part, 
Whom I do wear engraven on my heart ? 60 

Have you not seen the nightingale, 
A prisoner like, coopt in a cage, 

^ See this remarkable story in Cicero de Nat. Deonim, lib. iii. 
c. zxYiii. ; Cic. de Offic. L i. c. zzx. ; see also Yal. Max. 1. viii. 



LOYALTY CONFIKEO. 351 

How doth she chaunt her wonted tale 
In that her narrow hermitage ? 
Even then her charming melody doth prove, 65 

That all her bars are trees, her cage a grove. 

I am that bird, whom they combine 

Thus to deprive of liberty ; 
But though they do my corps confine, 

Yet maugre hate, my soul is free : 70 

And though immur*d, yet can I chirp, and sing 
Disgrace to rebels, glory to my king. 

My soul is free, as ambient air. 

Although my baser part's immew'd, 
Whilst loyal thoughts do still repair 75 

T' accompany my solitude : 
Although rebellion do my body binde. 
My king alone can captivate my minde. 



352 VERSES BT KING CHARLES I. 



XIII. 

" This prince, like his father, did not confine himself to 
prose : Bishop Burnet has given us a pathetic elegy, said 
to be written by Charles in Carisbrooke Castle [in 1648]. 
The poetry is most uncouth and unharmonious, but there 
are strong thoughts in it, some good sense, and a strain of 
majestic piety." — Wal pole's Roycd and Noble Authors^ v.i. 
It is in his Memoirs of the Duke of Hamilton, p. 379, 
that Burnet hath preserved this elegy, which he tells us 
he had from a gentleman, who 'waited on the king at the 
time when it wa^ written, and copied it out from the ori- 
ginal. It is there entitled, " Majesty ik misery : or 

AN ImPLORATION TO THE KiNO OF KINGS.** 

Hume hath remarked of these stanzas, '* that the truth 
of the sentiment, rather than the elegance of the expres- 
sion, renders them very pathetic." See his History, 1763, 
4to, vol. V. pp. 437, 442, which is no bad comment upon 
them. — These are almost the only verses known of 
Charles's composition. Indeecl, a little poem, On a Quiet 
Conscience^ printed in the Poetical Calendar, 1763, vol. 
viii., is attributed to King Charles I.; being reprinted 
from a thin 6vo, published by Nahum Tate, called 
" Miscellanea Sacra, or Poems on Divine and Moral 
Subjects." 



Great monarch of the world, from whose power 

springs 
The potency and power of kings, 
Record the royal woe my suffering sings ; 



VBRSES BY KING CHARLES I. 353 

And teach my tongue, that ever did confine 

Its faculties in truth's seraphick line, 5 

To track the treasons of thy foes and mine. 

Nature and law, hy thy divine decree, 
(The only root of righteous royaltie) 
With this dim diadem invested me : 

With it, the sacred scepter, purple rohe, 10 

The holy unction, and the royal globe : 
Yet am I levelPd with the life of Job. 

The fiercest furies, that do daily tread 

Upon my grief, my grey discrowned head. 

Are those that owe my bounty for their bread. 15 

They raise a war, and christen it the cause. 
While sacrilegious hands have best applause. 
Plunder and murder are the kingdom's laws ; 

Tyranny bears the title of taxation. 

Revenge and robbery are reformation, 20 

Oppression gains the name of sequestration. 

My loyal subjects, who in this bad season 
Attend me (by the law of God and reason,) 
They dare impeach, and punish for high treason. 

Next at the clergy do their furies frown, 25 

Pious episcopacy must go down. 

They will destroy the crosier and the crown. 

VOL. II. A a 



354 VERSES BY KING CHARLES I. 

Churchmen are chaia'd, and schismaticks are freed, 

Mechanicks preach, and holy fathers bleed, 

The crown is crucified with the creed. 30 

The church of England doth all factions foster, 
The pulpit is usurpt by each impostor, 
Extempore excludes the Paternoster. 

The Presbyter, and Independent seed 

Springs with broad blades. To make religion bleed 

Herod and Pontius Pilate are agreed. 36 

The comer stone's misplaced by every pavier : 
With such a bloody method and behaviour 
Their ancestors did crucifie our Saviour. 

My royal consort, from whose fruitful womb 40 
So many princes legally have come. 
Is forced in pilgrimage to seek a tomb. 

Great Britain's heir is forced into France, 

'Whilst on his father's head his foes advance : 

Poor child ! he weeps out his inheritance. 45 

With my own power my majesty they wound, 
In the king's name the king himselfs uncrown' d : 
So doth the dust destroy the diamond. 

With propositions daily they enchant 

My people's ears, such as do reason daunt, 50 

And the Almighty. will not let me grant. 



VERSES BT KINO CHARLES I. 355 

They promise to erect my royal stem, 
To make me great, t' advance my diadem, 
If I will first fall down, and worship them ! 

Qut for refusal, they devour my thrones, 55 

Distress my children, and destroy my bones ; 
I fear they'll force me to make bread of stones. 

My life they prize at such a slender rate. 

That in my absence they draw bills of hate. 

To prove the king a traytor to the state. 60 

Felons obtain more privilege than I, 
They are allow 'd to answer ere they die ; 
'Tis death for me to ask the reason, why. 

But, sacred Saviour, with thy words I woo 

Thee to forgive, and not be bitter to 65 

Such, as thou know'st do not know what they do. 

For since they from their Lord are so disjointed. 
As to contemn those edicts he appointed. 
How can they prize the power of his anointed ? 

Augment my patience, nullifie my hate, 70 

Preserve my issue, and inspire my mate ; 

Yet, though we perish, bless this church and stats. 

A a 2 



356 THE SALE OF 



XIV. 

This sarcastic exultation of triumphant loyalty is printed 
from an old black-letter copy in the Fepys collection, cor- 
rected by two others, one of which is preserved in *' A 
choice collection of 120 loyal songs, &c.'* 1684, 12mo. — 
To the tune of Old &mon the king. 

Rebellion bath broken up house. 

And bath left me old lumber to sell ; 
Come hither, and take your choice, 

I'll promise to use you well : 
Will you buy the old speaker's chair ? 5 

Which was warm and easie to sit in, 
And oft hath been clean'd I declare, 

When as it was fouler than fitting. 
Says old Simon the king, &c. 

Will you buy any bacon- flitches, 10 

The fattest, that ever were spent ? 
They're the sides of the old committees, 

Fed up in the long parliament. 
Here's a pair of bellows, and tongs. 

And for a small matter I'll sell ye 'um; 15 
They are made of the presbyters lungs, 

To blow up the coals of rebellion. 
Says old Simon, &c. 



REBELLIOUS HOUSHOLD-STUFF. 857 

I had thought to have given them once 

To some black-smith for his forge ; 20 

But now I have considered on*t, 

They are consecrate to the church : 
So I'll give them unto some quire, 

They will make the big organs roar, 
And the little pipes to squeeke higher, 25 

Than ever they could before. 
Says old Simon, &c. 

Here's a couple of stools for sale. 

One's square, and t'other is round ; 
Betwixt them both the tail 20 

Of the Rump fell down to the ground. 
Will you buy the states council- table. 

Which was made of the good wain Scot ? 
The frame was a tottering Babel 

To uphold the Independent plot. 35 

Says old Simon, &c. 

Here's the beesom of Reformation, 

Which should have made clean the floor, 
But it swept out the wealth of the nation, 

And left us dirt good store. 40 

Will you buy the states spinning-wheel, 

Which spun for the roper's trade ? 
But better it had stood still. 

For now it has spun a fair thread. 

Says old Simon, &c. 45 



358 THE SALE OF 

Here's a glyster-pipe well try*d, 

Which was made of a butcher's stump ^» 
And has been safely apply'd, 

To cure the colds of the rump. 
Here's a lump of Pilgrims-Salve, 50 

Which once was a justice of peace, 
Who Noll and the Devil did serve ; 

But now it is come to this. 
Says old Simon, &c. 

Here's a roll of the states tobacco, 55 

If any good fellow will take it ; 
No Virginia had e'er such a smack-o, 

And I'll tell you how they did make it : 
'Tis th' Engagement, and Covenant cookt 

Up with the Abjuration oath ; 60 

And many of them, that have took't. 

Complain it was foul in the mouth. 
Says old Simon, &c. 

Yet the ashes may happily serve 

To cure the scab of the nation, 65 

Whene'er 't has an itch to swerve 

To Rebellion by innovation. 
A Lanthorn here is to be bought. 

The like was scarce ever gotten, 

^ Alluding probably to Major-General Harrison, a butcher^s son, 
Tvbo assisted Cromwell in turning out the long parliament, April 20, 
1653. 



4 



REBELLIOUS HOUSHOLD-STUFF. 359 

For many plots it has found out 70 

Before they ever were thought on. 
Says old Simon, &c. 

Will you buy the Rump's great saddle, 

With which it jocky'd the nation ? 
And here is the bitt, and the bridle, 75 

And curb of Dissimulation : 
And here's the trunk-hose of the Rump, 

And their fair dissembling cloak, 
And a Presbyterian jump, 

With an Independent smock. 80 

Says old Simon, &c. 

Will you buy a Conscience oft tum'd, 

Which serv'd the high-court of justice. 
And stretch'd until England it moum'd : 

But Hell will buy that if the worst is. 85 

Here's Joan Cromwell's kitchen-stuff tub. 

Wherein is the fat of the Rumpers, 
With which old Noll's horns she did rub. 

When he was got drunk with false bumpers. 
Says old Simon, &c. 90 

Here's the purse of the public faith ; 
Here's die model of the Sequestration, 

Yer. 86. This was a cant name given to Cromweirs wife by 
the Royalists, though her name was Elizabeth. She was taxed 
with exchanging the kitchen-stuff for the candles used in the Pro. 
tector^s household, &c See Chat, Mag. for March, 1788, p. 242. 



360 THE SALE OF REBELLIOUS HOUSHOLD- STUFF. 

When the old wiyes upon their good troth. 

Lent thimbles to ruine the nation. 
Here's Dick CromweH's Protectorship, 95 

And here are Lambert's commissions, 
And here is Hugh Peters his scrip 

Cramm'd with the tumultuous Petitions. 
Says old Simon, &c. 

And here are old NolPs brewing vessels, 100 

And here are his dray, and his slings ; 
Here are Hewson's awl, and his bristles ; 

With diverse other odd things : 
And what is the price doth belong 

To all these matters before ye ? 105 

ril sell them all for an old song, 

And so I do end my story. 
Says old Simon, &c. 



V. 94. See Grey's Hudibras, pt. i. cant. ii. v. 670, &c. 

V. 100, 102. Cromwell had in his younger years followed tbe 
brewing trade at Huntingdon. Col. Hewson is said to have been 
originally a cobbler. 



THE BAFFLED KNIGHT, OR LADIt's POLICY. 361 



XV. 

Given (with some corrections) from a MS. copj, and 
collated with two printed ones in Roman character in the 
Pepys collection. 

Thebe was a knight was drunk with wine, 

A riding along the way, sir ; 
And there he met with a lady fine, 

Among the cocks of hay, sir. 

Shall you and I, O lady faire, 5 

Among the grass lye down-a : 
And I will have a special care 

Of rumpling of your gowne-a. 

Upon the grass there is a dewe. 

Will spoil my damask gowne, sir: 10 

My gowne and kirtle they are newe. 

And cost me many a crowne, sir. 

« 

I have a cloak of scarlet red, 

Upon the ground I'll throwe it ; 
Then, lady faire, come lay thy head ; 15 

We'll play, and none shall knowe it. 



362 THE BAFFLED KKI6HT, 

O yonder stands my steed so free 

Among the cocks of hay, sir ; 
And if the pinner should chance to see, 

He*ll take my steed away, sir. 20 

Upon my finger I have a ring. 

Its made of finest gold-a. 
And, lady, it thy steed shall bring 

Out of the pinner's fold-a. 

O go with me to my father's hall ; 25 

Fair chambers there are three, sir : 
And you shall have the best of all. 

And I'll your chamberlaine bee, sir. 

He mounted himself on his steed so tall, 

And her on her dapple gray, sir : 30 

And there they rode to her father's hall, 
Fast pricking along the way, sir. 

To her father's hall they arrived strait ; 

'Twas moated round about-a ; 
She slipped herself within the gate, 35 

And lockt the knight without- a. 

Here is a silver penny to spend. 

And take it for your pain, sir ; 
And two of my fatlier's men I'll send 

To wait on you back again, sir. 40 



OR lady's policy. 363 

He from his scabbard drew his brand, 

And wiped it upon his sleeve-a : 
And cursed, he said, be every man, 

That will a maid believe-a I 

She drew a bodkin from her haire, 45 

And whip'd it upon her gown-a ; 
And curs'd be every maiden faire. 

That will with men lye down-a ! 

A herb there is, that lowly grows, 

And some do call it rue, sir : 50 

The smallest dunghill cock that crows, 

Would make a capon of you, sir. 

A flower there is, that shineth bright, 

Some call it mary-gold-a : 
He that wold not when he might, 55 

He shall not when he wold-a. 

The knight was riding another day, 

With cloa]^ and hat and feather : 
He met again with that lady gay, 

Who was angling in the river. 60 

Now, lady faire, I've met with you. 

You shall no more escape me ; 
Remember, how not long agoe 

You falsely did intrap me. 



364 THE BAFFLED KKIOHT, 

The lady blushed scarlet red, 65 

And trembled at the stranger : 
How shall I guard my maidenhead 

From this approaching danger ? " 

He from his saddle down did light, 

In all his riche attyer ; 70 

And cryed, As I am a noble knight, 

I do thy charms admyer. 

He took the lady by the hand, 

Who seemingly consented ; 
And would no more disputing stand : 75 

She had a plot invented. 

Looke yonder, good sir knight, I pray, 

Methinks I now discover 
A riding upon his dapple gray. 

My former constant lover. 80 

On tip-toe peering stood the knight. 

Fast by the rivers brink-a ; v 

The lady pusht with all her might : 

Sir knight, now swim or sink-a. 

0*er head and ears he plunged in, 85 

The bottom faire he sounded ; 
Then rising up, he cried amain. 

Help, helpe, or else I'm drownded ! 



OR lady's policy. 305 

Now, fare-you-well, sir knight, adieu ! 

You see what comes of fooling : 90 

That is the fittest place for you ; 

Your courage wanted cooling. 

Ere many days, in her fathers park, 

Just at the close of eve-a. 
Again she met with her angry sparke ; 95 

Which made this lady grieve-a. 

False lady, here thou'rt in my powre. 

And no one now can hear thee : 
And thou shalt sorely rue the hour, 

That e'er thou dJar'dst to jeer me. 100 

I pray, sir knight, be not so warm 

With a young silly maid-a : 
I Vow and swear I thou^t no harm, 

'Twas a gentle jest I playd-a. 

A gentle jest, in soothe, he cryd, 105 

To tumble me in and leave me ! 
What if I had in the river dy'd ? 

That fetch will not deceive me. 

Once more I'll pardon thee this day, 

Tho' injur'd out of measure ; 1 10 

But then prepare without delay 

To yield thee to my pleasure. 



366 THE BAFFLED KNIGHT, 

Well then, if I must grant your suit, 
Yet think of your boots and spurs, sir : 

Let me pull off both spur and boot, 115 

Or else you cannot stir, sir. 

He set him down upon the grass, 

And begg'd her kind assistance ; 
Now, smiling thought this lovely lass, 

ril make you keep your distance. 120 

Then pulling off his boots half-way ; 

Sir knight, now Vm your betters : 
You shall not make of me your prey ; 

Sit there like a knave in fetters. 

The knight when she had served soe, 126 

He fretted, fum'd, and grumbled : 
For he could neither stand nor goe, 

But like a cripple tumbled. 

Farewell, sir knight, the clock strikes ten, 

Yet do not move nor stir, sir : 130 

ril send you my father's serving men. 
To pull off your boots and spurs, sir. 

This merry jest you must excuse, 

You are but a stingless nettle : 
You'd never have stood for boots or shoes, 135 

Had you been a man of mettle. 



OR lady's policy. 367 

All night in grievous rage he lay, 

Rolling upon the plain-a ; 
Next morning a shepherd past that way, 

Who set him right again-a. 140 

Then mounting upon his steed so tall. 

By hill and dale he swore-a : 
rU ride at once to her father's hall ; 

She shall escape no more-a. 

I'll take her father hy the heard, 145 

I'll challenge all her kindred ; 
Each dastard soul shall stand afieard ; 

My wrath shall no more be hindred. 

He rode unto her father's house. 

Which every side was moated : 150 

The lady heard his furious vows. 

And all his vengeance noted. 

Thought shee, sir knight, to quench your rage, 

Once more I will endeavour : 
This water shall your fury 'swage, 155 

Or else it shall bum for ever. 

Then faining penitence and feare. 

She did invite a parley : 
Sir knight, if you'll forgive me heare, 

Henceforth I'll love you dearly. 160 



368 THE BAFFLED KNIGHT, OR LADY*8 POLICY. 



My father he is now from home, 

And I am all alone, sir : 
Therefore a-cross the water come ; 

And I am all your own, sir. 

False maid, thou canst no more deceive ; 165 

I scorn the treacherous hait-a : 
If thou would'st have me thee believe, 

Now open me the gate-a. 

The bridge is drawn, the gate is barr*d, 

My father he has the keys, sir ; 170 

But I have for my love prepared 
A shorter way and easier. 

Over the moate I've laid a plank 

Full seventeen feet in measure : 
Then step a-cross to the other bank, 175 

And there we'll take our pleasure. 

These words she had no sooner spoke, 

But strait he came tripping over : 
The plank was saw'd, it snapping broke ; 

And sous'd the unhappy lover. 180 

# * 

* 



WHY 80 PALE? 369 



XVI. 

Wiis ^ 9ale? 

From Sir John Suckling's Poems. This sprightly knight 
was bom in 1613, and cat off by a fever about the 29th 
year of his age. See above, Song ix. of this book. 

Why so pale and wan, fond lover ? 

Prethee why so pale ? 
Will, when looking well can't move her. 

Looking ill prevail ? 

Prethee why so pale ? 5 

Why so dull and mute, young sinner ? 

Prethee why so mute ? 
Will, when speaking well can't win her, 

Saying nothing doe't ? 

Prethee why so mute ? 10 

Quit, quit for shame ; this will not move, 

This cannot take her ; 
If of herself she will not love, 

Nothing can make her. 

The devil take her ! 15 



VOL. II. B b 



370 OLD TOM OF BEDLAM. 



XVII. 

&Xtl Com oi 33etrlam. 

MAD BONa THE FIRST. 

It is worth attention, that the English have more songs 
and ballads on the subject of madness, than any of their 
neighbours. Whether there be any truth in the insinua- 
tion, that we are more liable to this calamity than other 
nations, or that our native gloominess hath peculiarly re- 
commended subjects of this cast to our writers, we cer- 
tainly do not find the same in the printed collections of 
French, Italian songs, &c. 

Out of a much larger quantity, we have selected half a 
dozen mad bongs for these volumes. The three first are 
originals in their respective kinds : the merit of the three 
last is chiefly that of imitation. They were written at 
considerable intervals of time ; but we have here grouped 
them together, that the reader may the better examine 
their comparative merits. He may consider them as so 
many trials of skill in a very peculiar subject, as the con- 
test of so many rivals to shoot in the bow of Ulysses. 
The two first were probably written about the beginning 
of the last century ; the third about the middle of it ; the 
fourth and sixth towards the end ; and the fifth within 
the eighteenth century. 

This is given from the Editor's folio MS. compared with 
two or three old printed copies. — With regard to the 
author of this old rhapsody, in Walton's Complete Angler, 
cap. 3, is a song in praise of angling, which the author 
says was made at his request " by Mr. William Basse, 
one that has made the choice songs of the Hunter in his 



OLD TOM OF BEDLAM. 371 

Career i and of Tom ofBedlamy and many others of note,'* 
p. 84. See Sir John Hawkins's curious edition, 8vo, of 
that excellent old book. 



Forth from my sad and darksome cell, 
Or from the deepe abysse of hell, 
Mad Tom is come into the world againe 
To see if he can cure his disterbpered braine. 

Feares and cares oppresse my soule ; 5 

Harke, howe the angrye Fureys houle ! 
Pluto laughes, and Proserpine is gladd 
To see poore naked Tom of Bedlam madd. 

Through the world I wander night and day 
To seeke my stra^ling senses, 10 

In an angrye moode I mett old Time, 
With his pentarchye of tenses : 

When me he spyed. 

Away he hyed, 
For time will stay for no man : 15 

In vaine with cryes 

I rent the skyes, 
For pity is not common. 

Cold and comfortless I lye : 
Helpe, oh helpe ! or else I dye ! 20 

Bb2 



372 OLD TOM OF BEDLAM. 

Harke ! I heare Apollo's teame, 

The carman 'gins to whistle ; 
Chast Diana bends her bowe. 

The boare begins to bristle. 

Come, Vulcan, with tools and with tackles, 25 
To knocke off my troublesome shackles ; 
Bid Charles make ready his waine 
To fetch me my senses againe. 

Last night I heard the dog-star bark ; 
Mars met Venus in the darke ; 30 

Limping Vulcan het an iron barr, 
And furiouslye made at the god of war. 

Mars with his weapon laid about, 
But Vulcan's temples had the gout. 
For his broad horns did so hang in his light, 35 
He could not see to aim his blowes aright : 

Mercurye, the nimble post of heaven. 

Stood still to see the quarrell ; 
Gorrel-bellyed Bacchus, gyant-like, 

Bestryd a strong-beere barrell. 40 

To mee he dranke, 
I did him thanke. 
But I could get no cyder ; 



OLD TOM OF BEDLAM. 373 

He dranke whole butts 

Till he burst his gutts, 45 

But mine were ne'er the wyder. 

Poore naked Tom is very drye : 
A little drinke for charitye ! 
Harke, I hear Acteon's home t 

The huntsmen whoop and hallowe ; 50 

Ringwoody Royster, Bowman, Jowler, 
All the chase do followe. 

The man in the moone drinkes clarret, 

Bates powder'd beef, turnip, and carret, 

But a cup of old Malaga sack 55 

Will fire the bushe at his backe. 



374 THE DISTRACTED PURITAN. 



XVIII. 

€bt SiKtrartelr ^nrftan, 

MAD SONG THE SECOND, 

Was written about the beginning of the seventeenth cen- 
tury by the witty bishop Corbet, and is printed from the 
third edition of his Poems, 12roo, 1672, compared with a 
more ancient copy in the Editor's folio MS. 

Am I mad, O noble Festus, 
When zeal and godly knowledge 
Have put me in hope 
To deal with the pope. 
As well as the best in the college ? 5 

Boldly I preach, hate a cross, hate a surplice, 

Mitres, copes, and rochets : 
Come hear me pray nine times a day, 
And fill your heads with crotchets. 

In the house of pure Emanuel * 10 

I had my education. 

Where my friends surmise 

I dazel'd my eyes 
With the sight of revelation. 
Boldly I preach, &c. 

^ Emanuel College, Cambridge, was originally a seminary of 
Puritans. 



THE DISTRACTED PURITAN. 375 

They bound me like a bedlam, 15 

They lash'd my four poor quarters ; 

Whilst this I endure, 

Faith makes me sure 
To be one of Foxes martyrs. 
Boldly I preach, &c. 

These injuries I suffer 20 

Through antichrist's perswasion : 

Take off this chain, 

Neither Rome nor Spain 
Can resist my strong invasion. 
Boldly I preach, &c. 

Of the beast's ten horns (God bless us !) 25 
I have knock'd off three already ; 

If they let me alone 

I'll leave him none : 
But they say I am too heady. 
Boldly I preachy &c. 

When I sack'd the seven-hill'd city, 50 

I met the great red dragon ; 

I kept him aloof 

With the armour of proof. 
Though here I have never a rag on. 
Boldly I preach, &c. 

With a fiery sword and target, 35 

There fought I with this monster : 



376 THE DISTRACTED PURITAN. 

But the sons of pride 
My zeal deride, 
And all my deeds misconster. 
Boldly I preachy &c. 

I uD-hors*d the Whore of Babel, 40 

With the lance of Inspiration ; 

I made her stink, 

And spill the drink 
In her cup of abomination. 
Boldly I preach, &c. 

I have seen two in a vision 45 

With a flying book * between them. 

I have been in despair 

Five times in a year, 
And been cur'd by reading Greenham '. 
Boldly I preach, &c. 

I observed in Perkins' tables * 50 

The black line of damnation ; 

* Alluding to some ▼isionary exposition of Zecb. ch. v. ver. J ; 
or, if the date of this song would permit, one might suppose it 
aimed at one Goppe, a strange enthusiast, whose life may be seen 
in Wood*8 Athen. vol. ii. p. 501. He was author of a book entitled 
The Fiery Flying Roll; and afterwards published a recantation, 
part of whose title is, The Fiery Flying RoU*8 Wings dipt, ^g, 

> See 6reenbam*8 Works, fol. 1605, particularly the tract en. 
titled A sweet Comjbrtfor an Affiicted Conscience, 

* See Perkinses Works, fol. 1616, vol. i. p. 11 ; where is a large 
half sheet folded, containing, " A survey, or table, declaring the 
order of the causes of salvation and damnation, &c.,** the pedigree 
of damnation being distinguished by a broad black zig-zag line. 



THE DISTRACTED PUEITAN. 377 

Those crooked veins 
So stuck in my brains, 
That I fear*d my reprobation. 
Boldly I preachy &c. 

In the holy tongue of Canaan 55 

I plac'd my chiefest pleasure : 

Till I prick'd my foot 

With an Hebrew root, 
That I bled beyond all measure. 
Boldly I preach, &c« 

I appear*d before the archbishop % 60 

And all the high commission : 
I gave him no grace, 
But told him to his face, 
That he &vour'd superstition.' 

Boldly I preach, hate a cross, hate a surplice, 
Mitres, copes, and rochets : 66 

Come hear me pray nine times a day. 
And fill your heads with crotchets. 

B Abp. Laud. 



378 THE LUNATIC LOVER. 



XIX. 

C]^e Uttnattc Hober, 

MAD SONG THE THIRD 



t 



Is given from an old printed copy in the British Museum, 
compared with another in the Pepys collection : both in 
black letter. 

Grim king of the ghosts, make haste. 

And bring hither all your train ; 
See how the pale moon does waste, 

And just now is in the wane. 
Come, you night-hags, with all your charms, 5 

And revelling witches away, 
And hug me close in your arms ; 

To you my respects 111 pay. 

ril court you, and think you fair, 

Since love does distract my brain : 10 

1*11 go, 1*11 wed the night-mare. 

And kiss her, and kiss her again : 
But if she prove peevish and proud. 

Then, a pise on her love ! let her go : 
1*11 seek me a winding shroud, 15 

And down to the shades below. 

A lunacy sad I endure. 

Since reason departs away ; 



THE LUNATIC LOVEB. 379 

I call to those hags for a cure, 

As knowing not what I say, 20 

The beauty, whom I do adore, 

Now slights me with scorn and disdain ; 
I never shall see her more : 

Ah ! how shall I bear my pain ? 

I ramble, and range abbut 25 

To find out my charming saint ; 
While she at my grief does flout. 

And smiles at my loud complaint. 
Distraction I see is my doom. 

Of this I am now too sure ; 30 

A rival is got in my room. 

While torments I do endure. 

Strange fancies do fill my head. 

While wandering in despair, 
I am to the desarts lead, 35 

Expecting to find her there. 
Methinks in a spangled cloud 

I see her enthroned on high ; 
Then to her I crie aloud. 

And labour to reach the sky. 40 

When thus I have raved awhile. 

And wearyed myself in vain, 
I lye on the barren soil. 

And bitterly do complain. 



380 THE LUNATIC LOVER. 

N 

Till slumber hath quieted me, 45 

In sorrow I sigh and weep ; 
The clouds are my canopy 

To cover me while I sleep. 

I dream that my charming fair 

Is then in my rival's bed, 50 

Whose tresses of golden hair 

Are on the fair pillow bespread. 
Then this doth my passion inflame, 

I start, and no longer can lie : 
Ah ! Sylvia, art thou not to blame 55 

To ruin a lover ? I cry. 

Grim king of the ghosts, be true, 

And hurry me hence away. 
My languishing life to you 

A tribute I freely pay. 60 

To the Elysian shades I post 

In hopes to be freed from care. 
Where many a bleeding ghost 

Is hovering in the air. 



THE LADT DISTRACTED WITH LOVE. 381 



XX. 

€bt JUCtss tfiitxsittttf intti %cbt, 

MAD SONO THE FOUETH, 

Was originally sung in one of Tom D'Urfey's comedies 
of Don Quixote, acted in 1694 and 1696 ; and probably 
composed by himself. In the several stanzas, the author 
represents his pretty Mad- woman as, 1, sullenly mad; 2, 
mirthfully mad ; 3, melancholy mad ; 4, fantastically mad; 
and 5, stark mad. But this and No. zzii. are printed 
from D'Urfey's PUlt to purge Meianchofy, 1719, vol. L 

From rosie bowers, where sleeps the god of love, 

Hither ye little wanton cupids fly ; 
Teach me in soft melodious strains to move 

With tender passion my heart's darling joy : 
Ah ! let the soul of musick tune my voice, 5 

To win dear Strephon, who my soul enjoys. 

Or, if more influencing 

Is to be brisk and airy, 
With a step and a bound. 
With a frisk firom the ground, 10 

I'll trip like any fairy. 

As once on Ida dancing 
Were three celestial bodies : 



382 THE LADT DISTRACTED WITH LOVE. 

With an air, and a face. 

And a shape and a grace, 15 

I'll charm, like beauty's goddess. 

Ah ! 'tis in vain ! 'tis all, 'tis all in vain ! 
Death and despair must end the fatal pain : 
Cold, cold despair, disguis'd like snow and rain, 
Falls on my breast; bleak winds in tempests blow ; 
My veins all shiver, and my fingers glow ; 21 

My pulse beats a dead march for lost repose. 
And to a solid lump of ice my poor fond heart is 
froze. 

Or say, ye powers, my peace to crown. 

Shall I thaw myself, and drown 25 

Among the foaming billows ? 
Increasing all with tears I shed, 

On beds of ooze, and crystal pillows. 
Lay down, lay down my love-sick head ? 

No, no, I'll strait run mad, mad, mad ; 30 

That soon my heart will warm ; 
When once the sense is filed, is filed, 

Love has no power to charm. 
Wild thro' the woods I'll fly, I'll fly, 

Robes, locks — shall thus — be tore ! 35 

A thousand, thousand times I'll dye 
Ere thus, thus, in vain, — ere thus in vain adore. 



THE DISTRACTED LOVER. 383 



XXI. 

MAD SONG THE FIFTH, 

Was written by Henry Carey, a celebrated composer of 
music at the beginning of the eighteenth century, and 
author of several little theatrical Entertainments, which 
the reader may find enumerated in the Companion to the 
Pla^'hoiue, &c The sprightliness of this songster^s fancy 
could not preserve him from a very melancholy cata- 
strophe, which was effected by his own hand. In his 
Poems, 4to, Lond. 1729, may be seen another Mad Song 
of this author, beginning thus : 

" Gods ! I can never this endure, 
Death alone must be my cure," &c. 



I GO to the Elysian shade, 

Where sorrow ne*er shall wound rae ; 
Where nothing shall my rest invade, 

But joy shall still surround me. 

I fly from Celiacs cold disdain, 5 

From her disdain I fly ; 
She is the cause of all my pain, 

For her alone I die. 

Her eyes are brighter than the mid-day sun. 

When he but half his radiant course has run, 10 



384 THE DISTRACTED LOVER. 

When his meridian glories gaily shine, 
And gild all nature with a warmth divine. 

See yonder river's flowing tide, 

Which now so full appears ; 
Those streams, that do so swiftly glide, 15 

Are nothing but my tears. 

There I have wept till I could weep no more, 

And curst mine eyes, when they have wept their 

store : ' 
Then, like the clouds, that rob the azure main, 
I've drain'd the flood to weep it back again. 20 

Pity my pains. 

Ye gentle swains ! 
Cover me with ice and snow, 
I scorch, I bum, I flame, I glow ! 

Furies, tear me, 25 

Quickly bear me 
To the dismal shades below ! 

Where yelling, and howling, 

And grumbling, and growling, 
Strike the ear with horrid woe. 30 

Hissing snakes. 
Fiery lakes 
Would be a pleasure, and a cure : 



THE FRANTIC LADT. 885 

Not all the hells, 

Where Pluto dwells, 35 

Can give such pain as I endure. 

To some peaceful plain convey me, 

On a mossey carpet lay me, 

Fan me with ambrosial breeze. 

Let me die, and so have ease 1 40 



XXII. 

MAD SONO THE SIXTH. 

This, like number XX., was originally sung in one of 
D'Urfey's Comedies of Don Quixote^ (first acted about the 
year 1694,) and was probably composed by that popular 
songster, who died Feb. 26, 1723. 

This is printed in the " Hive, a Collection of Songs/* 
4 vols. 1721, 12mo, where may be found two or three 
other Mad Songs not admitted into these volumes. 

I BURN, my brain consumes to ashes ! 
Each eye-ball too like lightning flashes ! 
Within my breast there glows a solid fire, 
Which in a thousand ages can't expire ! 

¥0L. II. c c 



SS6 THE FRANTIC LADT. 

Blow, blow, the winds* great ruler ! 5 

Bring the Po, and the Ganges hither, 
'Tis snltry weather ; 
Pour them all on my soul, 
It will hiss like a coal, 
But be never the cooler. 10 

Twas pride hot as hell, 

That first made me rebel], 
From love's awful throne a curst angel I fell ; 

And mourn now my fate. 

Which myself did create : 15 

Fool, fool, that considered not when I was well ! 

Adieu ! ye vain transporting joys I 

Off ye vain fantastic toys ! 
That dress this face — this body — to allure I 

Bring me daggers, poison, fire ! 20 

Since scorn is tum'd into desire. 
All hell feels not the rage, which I, poor I, endure. 



LILLI BURLERO. 387 



XXIII. 

Tas following rhymes, slight and insignificant as they 
may now seem, bad once a more powerful effect than 
either the Philippics of Demosthenes or Cicero, and 
contributed not a little towards the great revolution in 
1688. Let us hear a contemporary writer. 

" A foolish ballad was made at that time, treating the 
Fapbts, and chiefly the Irish, in a very ridiculous man- 
ner, which had a burden said to be Irish words, ' Lero, 
lero, lilliburlero,' that made an impression on the [king's] 
army, that cannot be imagined by those that saw it not. 
The whole army, and at last the people, both in city and 
country, were singing it perpetually. And perhaps never 
had so slight a thing so great an effect." — Burnet. 

It was written, or at least republished, on the Earl of 
Tyrconnel's going a second time to Ireland in October, 
1688. Perhaps it is unnecessary to mention, that General 
Richard Talbot, newly created Earl of Tyrconnel, had 
been nominated by King James II. to the lieutenancy of 
Ireland in IQS6, on account of his being a furious papist, 
who had recommended himself to his bigoted master by 
his arbitrary treatment of the Protestants in the preceding 
year, when only lieutenant-general, and whose subsequent 
conduct fully justified his expectations and their fears. 
The violence of his administration may be seen in any of 
the histories of those times : particularly in Bishop King's 
" State of the Protestants in Ireland," 1691, 4to. 

Lilliburlero and Bullen-a-lah are said to have been the 
words of distinction used among the Irish Papists in their 
massacre of the Protestants in 1641. 

c c 2 



388 LILLl BUBLEBO. 

Ho ! broder Teague, dost hear de decree ? 

Lilli burlerOy buUen a-la. 
Dat we shall have a new deputie, 
Jjilli burlero, bullen a-la« 
Lero lero, lilli burlero, lero lero, bullen a-la, 5 
Lero lero, lilli burlero, lero lero, bullen a-la. 

Ho ! by shaint Tyburn, it is de Talbote : 

Lilli, &c. 
And he will cut all de English troate. 

Lilli, &c. 10 

Dough by my shoul de English do praat, 

Lilli, &c. 
De law's on dare side, and Creish knows what. 

Lilli, &c. 

But if dispence do come from de pope, 15 

Lilli, &c« 
We'll hang Magna Charta and dem in a rope. 

Lilli, &c« 

For de good Talbot is made a lord, 

Lilli, &c. 20 

And with brave lads is coming aboard : 

Lilli, &c. 

Ver. 7, Ho by my shoul. aL ed. 



LILLI BUBLERO* 389 

Who all in Fnmce have taken a sware, 

Lilli, &c, 
Dat dey will have no protestant heir. 25 

Lilli, &c, 

Ara ! but why does he stay behind ? 

Lilli, &c. 
Ho ! by my shoul 'tis a protestant wmd. 

Lilli, &c. 30 

But see de Tyrconnel is now come ashore, 

Lilli. &c. 
And we shall have commissions gillore. 

Lilli, &c 

And he dat will not go to de mass, 35 

Lilli, &c. 
Shall be turn out, and look like an ass. 

Lilli, &c. 

Now, now de hereticks all go down, 

Lilli, &c. 40 

By Chrish and shaint Patrick, de nation's our own. 

Lilli, &c. 

Dare was an old prophesy found in a bog, 
Lilli, &c« 

y. 43. What foUowa is not in lome copie*. 



890 LILII BURLERO. 

** Ireland shall be rul'd by an ass and a dog." 45 
Lilli, &c. 

And now dis prophesy is come to pass, 

Lilli, &c. 
For Talbot's de dog, and Ja**8 is de ass. 

Lilli, &c. 50 



•»• The foregoing song is attributed to Lord Wharton 
in a small pamphlet, entitled, ** A true relation of the 
several facts and circumstances of the intended riot and 
tumult on Queen Elizabeth's birth-day,** &c. third edition, 
London, 1712, price 2d. See p. 5, viz, " A late Viceroy, 
[of Ireland,] v^ho has so often boasted himself upon his 
talent for mischief, invention, lying, and for making a cer- 
tain LilUburlero Song; with which, if you will believe 
himself, he sung a deluded Prince out of three King- 
doms.** 



THE BKAES OF YARROW. S9( 



XXIV. 

IN IMITATION OF THE ANCIENT SCOTS MANNER, 

Was written by William Hamilton, of Bangour, Esq., who 
died March 25, 1754, aged 50. It b printed from an 
elegant edition of his Poems, published at Edinburgh, 
1760, 12mo. This song was written in imitation of an old 
Scottish ballad on a ^milar subject, with the same burden 
to each stanza. 

y/. Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride, 
Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow. 
Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride. 
And think nae mair on the Braes of Yarrow. 

B, Where gat ye that bonny bonny bride ? 5 

Where gat ye that winsome marrow ? 

y/. I gat her where I dare na weil be seen, 
Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow. 

Weep not, weep not, my bonny bonny bride. 
Weep not, weep not, my winsome marrow ; 10 

Nor let thy heart lament to leive 
Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow. 



392 THE BRAES OF TABROW. 

B. Why does she weep, thy bonny bonny bride ? 
Why does she weep, thy winsome niRnrow ? 
And why dare ye nae mair weil be seen 1 5 

Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow ? 

A. Lang maun she weep, lang maun she, maun she 
weep, 
Lang maun she weep with dule and sorrow ; 
And lang maun I nae mair weil b^ seen 
Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow. 20 

For she has tint her luver, luver dear, 
Her luver dear, the cause of sorrow ; 

And I hae slain the comliest swain 

That eir pu'd birks on the Braes of Yarrovjr. 

Why rins thy stream, O Yarrow, Yarrow, reid ? 25 
Why on thy braes heard the voice of sorrow ? 

And why yon melantholious weids 
Hung on the bonny birks of Yarrow ? 

What's yonder floats on the rueful rueful flude ? 

What's yonder floats ? O dule and sorrow ! 30 
O 'tis he the comely swain I slew 

Upon the duleful Braes of Yarrow. 

Wash, O wash his wounds, his wounds in tears, 
His wounds in tears with dule and sorrow ; 



TBB BRAES OF YARROW. 393 

And wrap his limbs in mourning weids, 35 

And lay him on the Braes of Yarrow. 

Then build, then build, ye sisters, sisters sad, 
Ye sisters sad, his tomb with sorrow ; 

And weep around in waeful wise 

His hapless fate on the Braes of Yarrow. 40 

Curse ye, curse ye, his useless, useless shield. 
My arm that wrought the deed of sorrow, 

The fatal spear that pierc'd his breast, 

His comely breast on the Braes of Yarrow. 

Did I not warn thee, not to, not to luve ? 45 

And warn from fight ? but to my sorrow 

Too rashly bauld a stronger arm 
Thou mett'st, and fell'st on the Braes of Yarrow. 

Sweet smells the birk, green grows, green grows 
the grass, 

Yellow on Yarrow's bank the gowan, 50 

Fair hangs the apple firae the rock, 

Sweet the wave of Yarrow flowan. 

Flows Yarrow sweet ? as sweet, as sweet flows 
Tweed, 

As green its grass, its gowan as yellow, 
As sweet smells on its braes the birk, 55 

The apple frae its rock as mellow. 



894 THE BEAE8 OF YARROW. 

Fair was thy luve, fair fair indeed thy luve, 
In flow*ry bands thou didst him fetter ; 

Tho' he was fair, and weil beluv'd again 

Than me he never luv'd thee better. 60 

Busk ye, then busk, my bonny bonny bride, 
Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow ; 

Busk ye, and luve me on the banks of Tweed, 
And think nae mair on the Braes of Yarrow. 

C. How can I busk a bonny bonny bride ? 65 

How can I busk a winsome marrow ? 
How luve him upon the banks of Tweed, 
That slew my luve on the Braes of Yarrow ? 

O Yarrow fields, may never never rain 

Nor dew thy tender blossoms cover, 70 

For there was basely slain my luve. 
My luve, as he had not been a lover. 

The boy put on his robes, his robes of green, 
His purple vest, 'twas my awn sewing : 

Ah ! wretched me ! I little, little kenn'd 75 

He was in these to meet his ruin. 

The boy took out his milk-white, milk-white steed, 

Unheedful of my dule and sorrow : 
But ere the toofall of the night 

He lay a corps on the Braes of Yarrow. 80 



THB BRAES OF YARROW. 895 

Much I rejoyc'd that waeful waefiil day ; 

I sang, my v(Mce the woods returning : 
But lang ere night the spear was flown, 

That slew my luve, and left me mourning. 

What can my barbarous barbarous father do, 85 
But with his cruel rage pursue me ? 

My luver's blood is on thy spear, 

How canst thou, barbarous man, then wooe me ? 

My happy sisters may be, may be proud 

With cruel and ungentle scof&n', 90 

May bid me seek on Yarrow's Braes 
My luver nailed in his coffin. 

My brother Douglas may upbraid, upbraid, 
And strive with threatning words to muve me : 

My luver's blood is on thy spear, 95 

How canst thou ever bid me luve thee ? 

Yes, yes, prepare the bed, the bed of luve. 

With bridal sheets my body cover. 
Unbar, ye bridal maids, the door. 

Let in the expected husband lover. 100 

But who the expected husband husband is ? 

His hands, methinks, are bath'd in slaughter : 
Ah me ! what ghastly spectre's yon 

Comes in his pale shroud, bleeding after ? 



396 THE BEAE8 OF TAREOW. 

Pale as he is, here lay him, lay him down, 105 
O lay his cold head en my pillow ; 

Take aff, take aff these hridal weids, 
And crown my careful head with willow. 

Pale tho' thou art, yet hest, yet best beluy'd, 
O could my warmth to life restore thee ! 110 

Yet lye all night between my breists. 
No youth lay ever there before thee. 

Pale, pale indeed, O luvely luvely youth ! 

Forgive, forgive so foul a slaughter : 
And lye all night between my breists ; 115 

No youth shall ever lye there after. 

A. Return, return, O mournful, mournful bride, 
Return, and dry thy useless sorrow : 
Thy luver heeds none of thy sighs, 

He lyes a corps in the Braes of Yarrow. 120 



ADMIRAL hosier's GHOST. 397 



XXV, 
fttrtnfral HoaUfH ^iosA, 

Was a party song written by the ingenious author of 
Leomdai\ on the taking of Porto Bello from the Spaniards 
by Admiral Vernon, Nov. 22, 1739. The case of Hosier, 
which is here so pathetically represented, was briefly this. 
In April, 1726, that commander was sent with a strong 
fleet into the Spanbh West Indies, to block up the gal- 
leons in the ports of that country ; or, should they pre- 
sume to come out, to Beize and carry them into England : 
be accordingly arrived at the Bastimentos, near Porto 
Bello, but being employed rather to -overawe than to 
attack the Spaniards, with whom it was probably not our 
interest to go to war, he continued long inactive on that 
station, to his own great regret. He afterwards removed 
to Carthagena, and remuned cruising in these seas, till 
far the greater part of his men perished deplorably by the 
diseases of that unhealthy climate. This brave man, see- 
ing his best officers and men thus daily swept away, his 
ships exposed to inevitable destruction, and himself made 
the sport of the enemy, is said to have died of a broken 
heart. Such is the account of Smollett, compared with 
that of other less partial writers. 

The following song is commonly accompanied with a 
Second Part, or Answer, which being of inferior merit, 
and apparently written by another hand, hath been 
rejected. 

^ An ingenious correBpondent informs the Editor, that this ballad 
hath also been attributed to the late Lord Bath. 



398 ADKIRAL hosier's GHOST. 

As near Porto-Bello lying 

On the gently swelling flood, 
At midnight with streamers flying 

Our triumphant navy rode ; 
There while Vernon sate all-glorious 5 

From the Spaniards' late defeat : 
And his crews, with shouts victorious, 

Drank success to England's fleet : 

On a sudden shrilly sounding, 

Hideous yeils and shrieks were heard ; 10 

Then each heart with fear confounding, 

A sad troop of ghosts appeared, 
All in dreary hammocks shrouded. 

Which for winding-sheets they wore, 
And with looks by sorrow clouded 15 

Frowning on that hostile shore. 

On them gleam'd the moon's wan lustre, 

When the shade of Hosier brave 
His pale bands was seen to muster 

Rising from their wat'ry grave. 20 

0*er the glimmering wave he hy'd him, 

Where the Burford ' rear'd her sail, 
With three thousand ghosts beside him, 

And in groans did Vernon hail. 

* Adminl Vemon^t ship. 



ADMIRAL HOSIEE's OH09T. 899 

Heed, oh heed our fatal story, 26 

I am Hosier's injur'd ghost, 
You who now have purchased glory 

At this place where I was lost ! 
Tho' in Porto- Belio's ruin 

You now triumph free from fears, 30 

When you think on our undoing, 

You will mix your joy with tears. 

See these mournful spectres sweeping 

Ghastly o'er this hated wave. 
Whose wan cheeks are stain'd with weeping; 35 

These were English captains hrave. 
Mark those numbers pale and horrid, 

Those were once my sailors bold : 
Lo, each hangs his drooping forehead. 

While his dismal tale is told. 40 

I, by twenty sail attended. 

Did this Spanish town affright ; 
Nothing then its wealth defended 

But my orders not to fight. 
Oh ! that in this rolling ocean 45 

I had cast them with disdain, 
And obey'd my heart's warm motion 

To have quell'd the pride of Spain ! 

For resistance I could fear none. 

But with twenty ships have done 50 



400 ADXIRAL B0SISB*8 0B08T. 

What thou, brave and happy Vernon, 

Hast atchiey'd with six alone. 
Then the bastimentos never 

Had our foul dishonour seen, 
Nor the sea the sad receiver 55 

Of this gallant train had been. 

Thus, like thee, proud Spain dismaying, 

And her galleons leading home. 
Though condemned for disobeying, 

I had met a traitor's doom, 60 

To have fallen, my country crying 

He has play'd an English part, 
Had been better far than dying 

Of a griev'd and broken heart 

Unrepining at thy glory, 65 

Thy successful arms we hail ; 
But remember our sad story. 

And let Hosier's wrongs prevail. 
Sent in this foul clime to languish, 

Think what thousands fell in vain, 70 

Wasted with disease and anguish, 

Not in glorious battle slain. 

Hence with all my train attending 

From their oozy tombs below. 
Thro' the hoary foam ascending, 75 

Here I feed my constant woe : 



I 



ADMIRAL hosier's GHOST. 401 

Here the bastimentos viewing, 

We recal our shameful doom, 
And our plaintive cries renewing, 

Wander thro' the midnight gloom. 80 

0*er these waves for ever mourning 

Shall we roam deprived of rest, 
If to Britain's shores returning 

You neglect my just request ; 
Afber this proud foe subduing, 85 

When your patriot friends you see, 
Think on vengeance for my ruin. 

And for England sham'd in me. 



VOL. 11. D d 



402 JEMMY DAWSON. 



XXVI. 
S^tmmti |Bafa»$on. 

James Dawson was one of the Manchester rebels, who 
was hanged, drawn, and quartered, on Kennington-com- 
mon, in the county of Surrey, July 80, 1746. — This 
ballad is founded on a remarkable fact, which was reported 
to have happened at his execution. It was written by 
the late William Shenstone, Esq., soon after the event, 
and has been printed amongst bis posthumous works, 2 
vols. 8vo. It is here given from a MS. which contained 
some small variations from that printed copy. 

Come listen to my mournful tale. 
Ye tender hearts, and lovers dear ; 

Nor will you scorn to heave a sigh, 
Nor will you blush to shed a tear. 

And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid, 5 

Do thou a pensive ear incline ; 
For tliou canst weep at every woe. 

And pity every plaint, but mine. 

Young Dawson was a gallant youth, 

A brighter never trod the plain ; 10 

And well he lov'd one charming maid. 

And dearly was he lov'd again. 






JEMMY DAWSON. 403 

One tender maid she lov'd him dear, 

Of gentle blood the damsel came, 
And faultless was her beauteous form, 15 

And spotless was her virgin fame. 

But curse on party's hateful strife. 

That led the faithful youth astray 
The day the rebel clans appeared : 

O had he never seen that day i 20 

Their colours and their sash he wore, 

And in the &tal dress was found ; 
And now he must that death endure, 

Which gives the brave the keenest wound. 

How pale was then his true love's cheek, 25 

When Jemmy's sentence reach'd her ear ! 

For never yet did Alpine snows 
So pale, nor yet so chill appear. 

With faltering itoice, she weeping said. 
Oh, Dawson, monarch of my heart, 30 

Think not thy death shall end our loves. 
For thou and I will never part. 

Yet might sWeet mercy find a place, 

And bring relief to Jemmy's woes, 
O George, without a prayer for thee 35 

My orisons should never close. 

Dd2 



404 ^EMMY DAWSON. 

The gracious prince that gives him life 

Would crown a never-dying flame, 
And every tender babe I bore 

Should learn to lisp the giver's name, 40 

But though, dear youth, thou should'st be dragg'd 

To yonder ignominious tree, 
Thou shalt not want a faithful friend 

To share thy bitter fate with thee. 

O then her mourning-coach was call'd, 45 

The sledge mov'd slowly on before ; 

Tho' borne in a triumphal car, 

She had not lov'd her favourite more. 

She followed him, prepared to view 

The terrible behests of law ; 50 

And the last scene of Jemmy*s woes 

With calm and stedfast eye she saw. 

Distorted was that blooming face. 
Which she had fondly lov*d so long : 

And stifled was that tuneful breath, 55 

Which in her praise had sweetly sung : 

And severM was that beauteous neck, 
Round which her arms had fondly clos'd : 

And mangled was that beauteous breast, 

On which her love-sick head repos'd : 60 



JEMMT BAWSOK. 405 

And ravishM was that constant heart, 

' She did to every heart prefer ; 
For though it could his king forget, 
'Twas true and loyal still to her* 

Amid those unrelenting flames 65 

She bore this constant heart to see ; 
But when 'twas mouldered into dust, 

Now, now, she cried, I'll follow thee. 

* 

My death, my death alone can show 

The pure and lasting love I bore : 70 

Accept, O heaven, of woes like ours, 

And let us, let us weep no more. 

The dismal scene was o'er and past. 
The lover's mournful hearse retir'd ; 

The maid drew back her languid head, 75 

And sighing forth his name expir'd. 

Tho' justice ever must prevail. 

The tear my Kitty sheds is due ; 
For aeldom shall she hear a tale 

So sad, so tender, and so true. 80 



END OF THE THIRD BOOK. 



A GLOSSARY 



OF 



THE OBSOLETE AND SCOTTISH WORDS IN 
THE SECOND VOLUME. 



Such words as ihe reader oannoi find here, he i» desired to look for 
m the Glosearies to the other volumes. 



A deid of nicht, s. m dead of 
night. 

Aboven owHy.ahove us. 

Advoutry, AdvouterouB, adul- 
tery, adttUerous, 

Aff, 8. pffi 

Ahte, ov^ht. 

Aith, 8. oa^ 

Al, p. 5, albeit, although. 

Alemaigne, f. Germany. 

Aires, p. 30, probably corrupted 
for algates. alvxiys. 

Ancient, ajtag, banner. 

Angel, a gold coin toorth lOf. 

Ant, and. 

Aplyht, al aplyht, p. 10, quite 
complete, 

ArKabusbe, harouebusse^ an old- 
fashioned kind o/mudcet. 

Ase, €U. 

Attowre, b. out over, over and 
above. 



Azein, agein, againMl. 

Azont the ingle5 b. p. 64, leyond 

the fire. The fire was in the 

middle of the room \ 



B. 

Bairded, 8. bearded. 

Bairn, a. child. 

Bale, evil, mischief, misery, 

Balow, B. a nursery term, hush I 
luUahy! Sec. 

Ban, curse, l>anning, cursing. 

Battes, heavy sticks, dubs. 

Bayard, anoted blind horse, in the 
old romances. The horse on 
which the four sons of Aymon 
rode, is called Bayard Mon- 
taXbon, by Skelton in his Phil- 
Up Sparrow, 

Be, s. by; be that, by thai time. 



1 In the west of Scotland, at thiB preflent time, in many cottages 
they pile their peats and tui^ upon BtonoB in the middle of the room. 
There iB a hole above the fire in the ridge of the house to let the 
•moke oat at In some places are cottage-houses, from the front of 
which a very wide chimney projects like a bow window : the fire is 
in a grate, like a malt-kiln grate, round which the people sit: some- 
times they draw thia grate into the middle of tne room.^(Mr. 
Lambe.) 



40S 



6LOS8ART. 



Beam, Wirn, t. efttZi; also, kt§- 

mamenature. 
Bed, p. 9, bade. 
Bede, p. 18« ojir^ engage, 
Be&ll, p. 75, be/aUem, 
Befoir, b. b^re. 
Belive, immediately, jitretentiy. 
Ben, I. tmt&m, the mner room. 

p. 65 «. 
Bea, p. 12, ft«, are. 
Bene, p. 12, ftran, an ezpremon 

of contempt. 
Beoth, p. 7, 00, are, 
Ber the piys, p. 8, bear the prize. 
Berys, beareih. 
Besprent, betprinlded. 
Bested, p. 289, abode. 
Bet, better. Bett, did beoL 
Bewraies, dieoovers, betrays. 
Bi mi leaute, by my byaltyy 

honeety, 
Birk, 8. birch-tree. 
Blan, blanue, did blin, ». e. Hn- 

per^ stop. 
Blee, complexion. 
Blent, p. 152, ceased. 
Blink, s. aglimpeeoflipht; the 

sudden Ught qt a oandU seen in 

the night at a distance. 
Boist, Misteris, s. bocut^ boasters^ 
B0II7B, p. 18, bowls. 
Bonny, s. handsome, oomdy. 
Boote, gain, advantage. 
Bot, s. out; sometimes it seems 

to be used for 6o<&, or ftemefes, 

moreover. 
Bot, s. wi&out. Bot dreid, 

without dread, i. e. certainly, 
Bougils, s. bu^ horns, 
Bowne, ready. 
Brade, braid, s. broad. 
Braes of Yarrow, s. ihe hilly 

banks o/the rioer Yarrow, 
Braifly, s. bravely. 
Braw, s. brave. 



Brard, s. arose, hastened. 

Brayd attowre the bent, a. 
hasted over the field. 

Brede, brecuUh. So Chancer. 

Brenand drake, p. 20, may per- 
haps be the same as a fire- 
drake, OT fiery serpent, a meteor 
or fire-work so called : here 
it seems to signify burning 
embers, or fire'^Srands. ' 

Brimme, public, uni vereaUy 
known. A. S. bryme, idem. 

Brouch, an ornamental trinket : 
a stone-budde fitr a womavCs 
breast, ^. Yid. Brooche, 
Gloss, vol. iii. 

Brouke hnr wyth wynne, enjoy 
her with pleasmre,^ 17. A. SL 
brok. 

Brozt, brouaht. 

Buen, bueth, been, be, are, 

Boik, s. book. 

Burvens, buds, young iSioots. 

Buu ye, s. dress ye. 

But, wUhout, but let, wi&out 
hindrance. 

Bute, 8. boat, advantage, good. 

Butt, 8. out, ihe outer room. 

C. 

Cadgily, s. merrily, eh ee ffu Uy. 

GaliTor, a kind 0/ musket. 

Can curtesye, know, understand, 

good manners. 
Cannes, pi 22, wooden cups, 

bowls, 
Cantabanqni,ItaL ballad-singers, 

sinaers on bem^es. 
Can ties, pieces, comers, 
Cantv, 8. cheerful, chatty. 
Capul, a poor horse. 
Carle, churl, down. It is also 

used in the north for a strong 

hale old man. 



* ** But o* house** means the outer part of the house, outer room, 
▼iz. that part of the house into which you first enter, suppose, firom 
the street. " Bbn o* house** is the inner room, or more retired part 
of the house. The daughter did not lie out of doors. The eottaoers 
often desire their landlords to build iJiem a But, and a Bbn. (Vide 
Gloss, to vol. iii.)fMr. Lambe. 



6L088ART* 



409 



Garline,. t. tbe feminine of carle, 
Carpe, to apeaky recUe : also, to 

censitre. 
Cupingy reeiimff. 
Chayme, p. 69, Cain. 
Che (Somerset dialect), /. 
Cheis, 8. (Aooae. 
Cheveron, p. 22, tke upper pari 

of the aeutekeon tn heraldry. 

Chill (Som. dial.),/ «^. 

Chonld (ditto), / wmld, 

Chylded, brought fbrthy wae de- 
livered, 

Chylder, ckildreny ehUdren'e. 

Clattered, beeU aoasto rattle, 

Clead, t. dad, clothe. 

Clepe, call. 

Clynldng, fMMM^^Mgling. 

Cohorted, inciteti, ea^torted. 

Cokenej, p. 25, seemt to be a 
diminutiTO for cook; from the 
Latin eoouinator, or eoquma- 
riui. Toe meaning seemt to 
be, that ** Erery five and five 
had a cook, or scullion to at- 
tend them." Chaucer*8 Cant 
Tales, 8vo. vol. W. p. 25a 

Cold roet (a phrase), nothing to 
thepufjaose. 

Com, p. 9, came. 

Con, can, gan, h^fon. Item, 
con 8priDge(a phrase), sprung; 
con fare, toent, paeaed. 

Coote, p. 264 (note), coat. 

Cod, heady the top <^ ang tking^ 
Sax. 

Cost, coast, side. 

Cotyd^Uye, daUg, everg dag, 

CoTctise, covetousness. 

Could bear, a phrsse for hare. 
Could creip, s. crept. Could 
say, said. Conld weip, s. 
ieept. 

Could his good, p. 269, knew 
what VHU good for him; or 
perhaps, emdd uve upon his 
own, 

Couthen, p. 9, knew. 

Croft, an mdosure near a house, 

Croiz, cross, 

Crompling, crooked; or perhaps, 
witk crooked knottg hanis. 



Crook my knee, p. 67, make 
lame my knee. Ther say in 
the north, **The horse is 
crookit,** i. e. lame. " The 
horse crooks,** i. e. goes lame. 

Crouneth, p. 8, crown ye. 

Cule, s. cooL 

Cummer, s. gossip, friend, fr. 
Commere, compere. 

Cure, oars, heed, regard. 



D. 

Dale, s. <2oa/, p. 80; hot gif I 
dale, wdese Ldeal, p. 78. 

Dampned, damned. 

Dan, p. 150, an ancient title of 
runeet; from Lat. Dominus. 

Danske, p. 254, Denmark, 

Darh, p. 10, perhaps for Thar^ 
^itre. 

DarrM, s. &cf. 

Dart the trie, s. hxt the tree, 

Daukin, dimianUive ofDanid. 

Daunger hault, cuynees hAddk. 

Deare day, dkarmvng, pleaeant 
day. 

Dede is do, p. 32, deed is done, 

Deere, hurt, mischief, 

Deeriye dight, richly fitted out, 

Deimpt, s. deemed, esteemed. 

Deir, s. dear. Item, hurt, trou- 
Ue, disturb. 

Dele, deal. 

Dome, deemed,^irM2{;«, doomed. 

Dent, p. 17, a dint, Uow, 

Deol, dUe, grief, 

Dere, deere, dear ; also, hurt. 

DerkcAl, darkened. 

Dem, B. secrety p. 78. T dem, 
tn secret. 

DoTys, devise, ihe act of bequeath- 
ing by will. 

Deze, oe^e, die. 

Dight, dicht, s. detked, dressed, 
prepared, fitted out, eUme, 

Dill, stm, calm, mitigate. 

Dine, s. p. lOd, dinner. 

Dol. <Ste Deol, Dule. 

Don, p. 20, down. 



410 



QLOSSART. 



Donghtinen of dent, durdmess 

ojkiowi, 
Dozter, daMi^ii»r. 
Doz trogh, a dougk-tnmgk, a 

kneadmthirotiffk^ p. 21. 
Drake. Sm Bronand drake. 
Drie, b. tu^, 
Drowe, drew, 
Dryiig, drimk. 
Dude, did, Dadett, didst. 
Dole, I. dael, dol, dole^ grief. 
Dyce, 8. duxy che^uer-work. 
Dyht, p. 10, to dispose, order, 
Djrxt. Vid.Di|^t. 



E. 

Eud^n, earth. 

Earn, s. to ourdUt make cheese, 

Eiked, t, p. 81, added, enlarged, 

Elviah, peemshyfantasHoai, 

Erne, loMsmany unde. 

Ene, g. eyn, 6;yM. Ene, s. even, 

En%\ie,/ollow. 

Entendement, f. understanding, 

Ententifly, to the intent, pur* 

poseljf, 
Er, ere, before; p. 17, are. Ere, 

ear, 
Etded, aimed. 



P. 

Fader, Fatherii, •. faihery fa- 
thers. 

Fair of feir, s. of a fair and 
heaUhfid look (Ramsay). Per- 
haps, /ar o^ (freejrom) fear. 

Falsing, deeding in falsehood. 

Fang, p. 23, seixe, carry off. 

Fannes, p. 22, ifistruments for 
winnowing com. 

Fare, go, pass, traveL 

Fare, the price of a passage ; p. 
90, ^ot, reckoning. 

Fauzt, £aacht, s. fought. Item, 
fght. 



FeiU, 8. p. 82, fele, many, 

Felziyntt, fighting, 

Felay, feloy, p. 2^2, fellow. 

Fele, feWjurious; p. 22, skin. 

Fend, defend. 

Fere, fear. Item, oompanum, 

wife, 
Ferliet, s. voondered, 
¥et\y, wonder i t^ao, wonderful. 
Fey, i.predeslinalsdto death, or 

some Tni^brtane: under afar 

taHty, 
Fie, s. beasts, cattle. 
Firth, Frith, s. p. 81, a wood. 

Item, an arm of the sea, 1. 

firetum. 
Fit, s.foot,' 
Fitt, division, part. See pp. 186, 

187 ». 
Flea, p. 2i,^eeoe. 
Fleyke, p. 131, a large kind of 

hurdle. Cows are frequently 

milked in hovels nude of 

Fleyks. 
Flowan, s.Jlowing. 
¥oad, contrive; also, endeavour, 

try. 
Force, no force, p. 150, no 

maUer. 
Forced, regarded, heeded, 
Forfend, aivert, hinder. 
For-foght, p. 22. werfou^, 
Fors. I do no fora, p. 13, / 

donH care, 
Forst, p. 72, heeded, reaarded, 
Forwatcht, over-toaiched, kept 

atoake. 
Fowkin, a cant word /or afarL 
FoxH, drunk, 
Frae thay be^n, j). 79, /iw« 

their beginmng,/rom ^ time 

th^begm, 
Freake, freeke, freyke, man, 

human creature. 
Freer*, frpn, friars, monks. 
Freyke, p. 131, humour, indulge 

freakishly, capridoudy. 
Freyned, aAed. 
Frie, s. fie, free. 



* FiTTS, i*. e. **" divisions or parts in music,** are alluded to in 
Troilus and Cressida, act 3, sc. i. See Mr. Steevens^s note. 



GLOSSARY. 



411 



G. 

Oa, gaii, 8. gOy goes. 
Graberlunzie, gaberlanye, s. a 

wallet. 
Gaberlunzie-man, g. a vxdlei' 

man, i. e. tinker^ beggar. 
Gadlings, gadcUers, tMe/dlows, 
Gadryoff, gathering. 
Galliard, a sprigiUp hnd pf 

dance. 
Gar, 8. to mahe^ cause., ^. 
Gayed, made gay (J^rdothes). 
Gear, geire, geir, gair, 8. goods, 

^ectSyStuf. 
Gederede j§ host, gaikered his 

host. 
Geere will sway, p. 201, this 

matter wiU turn out; affair 

termma^. 
Gef, geve, gkfe. 
Gest, p. 292, act ^ /eat y story, A»- 

tory, (It is Jest in MS.) 
Gie, glen, s. givey given. 
Gillore {IriBh), plenty* 
Gimp, jimp, a. neat, slender. 
Girt, s. pteroed. Through-girt, 

p. 74, pierced throwah. 
Give, 8. gif, giffi p. 79, if. 
Glaive, t. stwrni. 
GleD, 8. a narrow valley. 
Glie, 8. glee, merriment, joy, 
Glist, %. glistered. 
God before, p. 89, i. e. €hd he 

thy guide : a f onA of bless- 
ing*. 
Gh>de, godness, good, goodness. 
Good, p. 87, se. a good deaL 
Good-^*en8, good-e'emngs. 
Gorget, the dress of the neck. 
Gowan, s. ike common yeUow 

erow^/bot, orgoldcup. 



Graithed (gowden), s, toot ea- 
parisoned tmth gold. 

Graythed, p. 18, s. dedced, put 
on, 

Gree, s. prize, victory. 

Greened, s. grew green. 

Gret, p. 9^ great; grieved, swoln, 
ready 1o burst. 

Grippel, j^r^pm^, tenacious, mi- 
serly. 

Grownes, grounds, p. 256 (rhyth- 
mi gratia). Yid. Sowne. 

Growte, p. 257, in Northamp- 
tonshire, is a kind of small 
beer, extracted from the malt 
after the strength has beeii 
drawn off. In Devon, it is a 
kind of sweet ale, medicated 
with eggs, said to be a Danish 
liquor *. 

Grype, agrijffki, 

Gyhe, jest, joke. 

Gyles, s. ^/uSes. 

Gyn, et^ne, contrtoanee. 

Gyrd, p. 19, girded, laired, ^. 

Gyse, 8. guise, form, fashion. 



H. 

Ha, have; ba, s. haU, 

Habbe, ase he brew, p. 4, have 

as he brews. 
Haggis, 8. a i^eep^s stomach, 

sti^fid with a pudding made of 

mineemeat, Sj^. 
Hail, hale, 8. whole, altogether. 
Uait, holdeth. 
Hame, hamward, home, home- 

wcwd. 
Hare . . swerdes, p. 4, their . , 

swords, 
Hornisiae, harness, armour. 



* So in Shakspeare^s King Henry V, (act 3, sc. viii.) the King 
says, 

** My army*s but a weak and sickly guard; 
Yet, God Bbforb, tell him we will come on.** 

^ Growtb 18 a kind of &re much used by Danish sailors, being 
boiled groats (»'. e. hulled oats), or else shelled bariey, served up very 
thick, and batter added to it. — (Mr. Lunbe.) 



412 



OLOSSARTt 



H&rrowed, harastedf disturbed* 

HarwoB, harrows, 

HaT, kaw. 

Haves (of), ^f^cts, substanoSf 

riches. 
Hawkin, lynonTmous to HaOdii, 

dimin. of Harry. 
He, p. 21, hiSf hatken. 
Heare, here; p. 72, hari. 
Hech, p. 24, natch, smcUl door. 
Hecht to lay thee law, a. pro- 

tnisedy m^xged to lay theelow. 
Hed, heixd. 
Hede, p. 9, he^d, he wovld ; p. 41, 

Heicht, t. height. 

Heiding-hill, s. tke^heading [i. e. 
beheading] hiU. The place of 
execation was anciently an 
artificial hillock. 

Heil, •. hele, health. 

Helen, heal. ) 

Helpeth, help ye* 

Hem, them. 

Henne. hence. 

Hent, nente, held^ laid hold of; 
also, received. 

Her, p. 31, their. 

Here, p. 5, thdr; p. 68, hear; 
p. 40, hair. 

Herkneth, hearken ye. 

Herte, hertis, heartf hearts, 

Hea, 8. has. 

Het.hot. 

Hether, heather, a. Aea<&, a low 
shrubf that grows upon the 
moor, &c., BO luxuriantly as 
to choke the erass; to pre- 
vent which the inhabitants 
set whole acres of it on fire ; 
the rapidity of which gave 
the poet tnat apt and noble 
simile in p. 113. (Mr. Hut- 
chinson.) 

Heuch, s. a rodi or steep hUL 

Hevede. hevedest, had, hadst. 

Heveriche, hevenrich, heavenly^ 
p. 9. 

Heynd, hend, gentle, obliging. 

Heyze, high; heyd, s. hted. 

Hicht ; a-hicht, s. on he^ht. 

High dames too wail, s. p. Ill, 



high [orgreaf^ ladiestowail; 

or, hasten ladies to uxnl, jv. 
"Bight, promised, engaged ; also, 

named. 
Hilt, taken ^, Jlayed. Sax. 

hyldan. - 
Hinch-boyg, hench- (properly 

haunch-)men, pc^es (^honour ; 

pages attendii^ on persons €f 

office. 
Hind, s. behind. 
Hinny, s. honey. 
Hit, it ; hit be write, p. S,it be 

written, 
Holden, hold* 

Holtis hair, s. p. 82, hoar luUs. 
Holy-roode, hxky cross. 
Honden wrvnge, hands wring. 
Hop-halt, &}njMfl^; hopping and 

halting. 
Houzle, give the sacrament. 
Howeres, bowers, hours. 
Huerte, heart. 
Hye, hyest, high, highest. 
Hynd attowre, s. beJtind, over^ or 

about. 
Hyp-halte, lame in the hip* 
Hys, his ; also, is, 
Hyt, hytt, U. 
Hyznes, highness. 



1. 



Janglen, talkative persons, teU- 
tales; also, wranglers, 

I-fere, together, 

I-iore, ItMt. I-strike, stridden* 

I-trowe [/ believe], verily. 

Ich, /. Ich biquelh, Ibequeaik* 

Jenkin, diminutive of John, 

Ilk ; this ilk, s. Uns same. 

like ; every ilke, every one. 

nk one, eoM one. 

Illfardly,s. iU-favour'dly, u£^y. 

Inogh, enough. 

Into, s. in. 

Jo, s. sweet-heart, friend. lo is 
properly the contraction of 
Joy; so rt^oioe is written rt^oce 
in old Scottish MSS., particu- 
larly Bannatyne^s, passim. 



0L0S8ART. 



418 



lo forth, p. 21, corraptly printed 
«o, should probably be too^ i. e. 
hcUloo. 

Is, p. 3, his. 

Ise, s. / shall. 

It's ne*er, b. p. 105, t< shaUne^er, 

Jupe, s. p. Ill, an upper gat' 
ment ; fr. a peUicoal. 



K. 

Kaak, s. <JuUk. 

Keel, p. 66, s. raddle. 

Keipand, s. keeping. 

Kempes, soldierSj ivarriors. 

Kend, s. knew. 

Kene, keen. 

Kid, kyd, kithed, made known^ 
shown. 

Kind, kynde, nature^ p. 15. To 
carp is our kind, U is natural 
/or us to talk of. 

Kirm, s. chum. 

Kists, s. chests. 

Kith and Kin, acquaintance and 
kindred. 

Kowe, p. 17, cow, 

Kye, kifief cows, 

Kyrtel, kirtle, petticoat. 

Kythe, appear ; also, make ap- 
pear^ snow, dedare. 

Kythed, s. appeared. 



L. 

Laide unto her, p. 268, imputed 

to her. 
Lane, lain, s. hne; her lane, 

alonej by hersdf, 
Lasse, less. 

Layne, lien : also, laid. 
Leal, leil, s. loyal, honesty true; 

f. loyal. 
Leeke, p. 73, phrase of contempt. 
I^iman, leman, lover, mistress. 
Leir, s. lere, learn. 
Lenger, longer. 

Lengeth in, p. 289, resided in. 
Let, latte, ninder ; p. 22, slacken^ 

leave off; late, Ul. 



Lever, raiher. 

Lotos and bowes, leaves and 

boughs. 
Leuch, leugh, s. laughed. 
Leyke, like, piay, pp. 132. 292. 
Lie, 8. lee, p. Wb.jMd^jdain, 
Lieffe-men, vassals, stjjects. 
Lightly, easily. 
lArey^fiesh, completion 
Lodlye, p. 55, loathsome, Yid. 

Gloss, vol. iii lothly. 
Lo*e, s. love. 

Loht, .... (ballad i. ver. 44.) 
Loo, halloo ! 

Lore, lesson, dodrine, learning. 
Lore, lo^. 

Lorrel, a sorry, worthless person, 
Losel, dUto. 

Loud and still, phr. at aU times, 
Lought, lowe, lugh, p. 24, 

lauglted. 
Lowns, s. p. 107, blazes. Rather 

opposed to windy, boisterous, 
Lowte, lout, bow, stoop. 
Lude, luid, luivt, s. Iwed, 
Luef, hve. 
' Luiks, s. looks. 
Lyard, grey : a name given to a 

horse from its grey colour, as 

Bayard from bay. 
Lys, lies. 

Lythe, p. 185, easy, gentle, 
Lyven na more, Uve no more^ no 

longer. 
Lyzt, l^ht, 

M. 

Maden, made. 

Making, p. 48, sc, verses ; versi- 



fying. 
Mane, mainmg, 



B. moan, moan- 



tng. 



Mangonel, an engine used for 
' discharping gr&ai stones, ar* 

rows, ^c. before the invaiHon 

of gunpowder. 
Margarite, a pearl, lat. 
Marrow, s. equal. 
Mart, s. marred, hurt, damaged, 
Maugre, p. 4, spite of; p. 79, xU- 

wul {t incur). 



4U 



GLOSSARY. 



Maze, a labj^rinih^ any ikUtg en- 
ian^/od or wtrictUe. 

Me, p. 9, men. Me con, men 
gan, 

Me-thuncketh, meihinks. 

Mean, moderate^ middU-sixed. 

Mease, a. W2eM, rtduoe, mitigate^ 
p. 114. 

Meed, s. p. HI, mood. 

Meit, s. meet,^, proper. 

Mell, hon^ ; also, meddle, min- 
gle. 

MeDse the faugh t, 8. p. 110, 
measure the battle. To give to 
the mense, is, to ffive above 
the measure. Twelve and one 
to the mense, is common with 
children in their play. 

MeoKie, s. meaney, rettnue, com- 
pany. 

Messager, f. mesBenger. 

Minny, s. mc^her. 

Mirk, s. doLrk, Uack. 

Mirry, s. meri, merry. 

Miskaryed, miscarried. 

Mister, s. to need. 

Mo, moe, more. 

Moiening, by means of, fr. 

Mome, a dull, stupid person. 

Mone, moon. 

More, mure, s. moor, heath, 
marshy ground ; al so, wUdhill ; 
p. 5, mores, ant the fenne, q. d. 
hill and dale. 

Mome, to-morn, p. 79, to-mor- 
row, in ifie morning. 

Momyng, p. 47, mourning. 

Mote I thee, might J thrive. 

Mo we, may ; mou, s. mouth. 

Muchele host, p. 4, mickle boast, 
great boast. 

M!ude, s. mood^ 

Mulne, mill. 

M ume,m umt,muming,s.i7io«>n, 
mourfted, mourning. 

Myst, myzty, might, mighty. 



N. 

Natheless, nevertheless. 
Near, s. ner, nere, ne*er, never. 
Neat, ojsen, cows, large cattle. 
Neatherd, a keeper ^cattle, 
Neatresse, a female ditto. 
Nere, p. 289, we were ; were it 

not/or. 
Nest, nyest, next, nearest. 
Noble, a goid coin, in value 20 

groats, or Qs. 8d. 
Nollys, J). 18^ noddles, heads. 
Nom, p. 9, took. Nome, name. 
Non, none. None, noon. 
Nonce, purpose ; for the noAce, 

for the occasion. 
Norse, s. Norway. ^ 

Nou, fu>w. 
Nout, nocht, s. nought ; also, not. 

Nout, p. 10, seems for * ne 

mought.* 
Nowffht, nought. 
Nowls, noddles, heads. 
Noye, p. 23, v. 175, annoy; 

query. 
Nozt, p. 21, noug^, not. 
Nyzt, night. 

O. 

Ocht, 8. ought. 

Oferlyng, superior, paramount ; 

opposed to underling, p. 4. 
On, p. 47, one, an. 
On loft, p. 18, aloft. 
Onys, once. 
Or, ere, before. 

Orisons, 8. prayers, f. oraisons. 
Ou, oure, p. 8, you, your ; ibid. 

our. 
Out alas ! easdamation of^rief 
Outowre, 8. out over. 
Owene, awen, ain, s. oum. 
Owre, 8. over. 



* On the top of Catharine-hill, Winchester (the usual play-place 
of the school), was a very perplexed and winding path, miming in a 
very small space over a great deal of ground, called a Miz-Mazb. 
The senior boys obliged the juniors to tread it, to prevent the figure 
from being lost, as I am informed by an iugeuious correspondent. 



GLOSSARY. 



415 



P. 

Parde, perdie, verily ; f. par 
dieu. 

Paaky, s. ahreuxlj cttftntn^, dy; 
or, saw^j inaoletU. 

Fece^ piece, ac. ofemmon. 

Pees, pese, pea4se, 

Pele, a baker*8 peel, 

Pentarchye of tenses, ,/Sve tenses. 

Percbmine, f. partAment. 

Perfay, s. verily ; t par foj, 

Perkin, diminutive of Peter, 

Persit, B. pearced, pierced, 

Fetje, pity. 

Peyn, patn. 

Pibrocns, s. H^fhlandtBcnr^unes, 

Playand, s. playing, 

Plett, %.pUdted. 

Plow-mell , p. 22, a email wooden 
hammer occasionally fiated to 
the plow, still used in the 
nortn: in the midland counties 
in its stead is used a plow- 
hatchet 

Tlrzt^plighi. 

Poll -cat, a cant word for a tokore, 

Pollys, powlls, polls, head. 

Poudred, p. 20, a term in he- 
raldry, for sprinkled over. 

Powlls, polls, heads. 

Prest, f. ready. 

Priefe, p. 91, prove, 

Priving, s. proving, tasting. 

Prove, p. 43, proof. 

Prude, p. 4, pride. It proud. 

Puinff, s. piuling. 

Purchased, p. 12, procured, 

Purvayed, provided. 



Quaint, p. 241, cunning; p. 259, 

mce,faniasttcal, 
Quat, B. miitted. 
Quel, p. i32, cruel, murderous. 
Quillets, quibbles, 1. quidlibet 
Quyle, s. while, 
Quyt, s. quite. 



Qwyknit, t. 

to life. 



quOchened, restored 



R. 



Rae, a roe, 

Raik, s. to go apace. Raik on 

raw. go fast in a row. 
Ranted, s. p. 64, toere merry, 

Vid. Gl. to Gent. Shepherd. 
Rauffht, reached, gained, o/datn- 

Razt, raught; or p. 23, reft, &e- 
reh. 

Rea me, reaume, realm. 

Rede, redde, p. 9, read. 

Rede, read, p. 33, advise, advice. 

Redresse, p. 74, care, labour, 

Refe, reve, reeve, baiUff. 

Refe, bereave; or perhaps, rive, 
split, 

Reid, B. cuivise. 

Remeid, s. remedy. 

Rescous, rescues. 

Reve, p. 19, bereave, deprive. 

Revers, s. robber8,pir<Ues, rovers, 

Rew, s. takepHy. 

Reweth, regrets, has reason to 
repent, 

Rin, s. run. 

Rise, p. 291, shoot, bu^, shrtA, 

Rive, p. 294, ri/e, abounding. 

Rood-loft, the place m the murck 
where the images were set up, 

Rudd, ruddiness, complexion. 

Rude, s. rood, cross. 

Ruel-bones, p. 19, note, perhaps 
bones diversely co^mf, f.riole; 
or perhaps, small bone-rings, 
from the fr. rouelle, a small 
ringor hoop. Cotgrav. Diction. 

Rugged, p. 2i4, puued with vio- 
lence. 

Rushy, s. p. 82, should be, rashy 
gair, rusliy stuff; ground co- 
vered wUh rushes. 

Ruthe, p. 44, pity; p. 216, woe. 

Ryschys, p. 24, rushes, 

Rywe, rue. 

Ryzt, right. 



416 



A 



GLOSSARY. 



S. 
Safer, p. 19, noto, sapphire. 
Saif, 8. Mw. Savely, sqfdy. 
Saisede, seized. 
Sap, p. 30, essayt attempt. 
Scant, ecarce, 
Schal, shaU. 
Sfthatred, shaUered, 
Schaw, B. dtow. 
Schene, t. skeen^ shining ; also, 

brightness. 
Schiples, 8. shipUss, ^ 
Scho, •. she. 
Schuke, 8. shook. 
Sclat, p. 13, slaie; Httle taUe- 

book o/slcUes to write vpon, 
Scomfit, discomfit, 
Scot, UuBy revenue ; p. 5, a year's 

tax of the kingdom ; also, fSuA^ 

refining. 
Se, sene, seying, sm, wen, seeing, 
Se, sees, s. sea, sea». 
Sek, sach^ p. 18. 
Selven, mf. 
SeWer, siller, s. tOher. 
Sely, seely, st^jf, simple. 
Sen, 8. since. 

Senvy, mustard-seed ; f. senvie. 
Seve, p. 294, seven. 
Sey vow, p. 12, say to, ^ yoa. 
Seyd, 8. saw. 
SljATO, p. 72) l>e Bbave, been 

shaven. 
SheeTe, shire, a great slice or 

/tenc^n of bread, p. 257» 
Shirt of male, or mail, a garment 

for defence, made aU of rings 

of iron, worn under the coat. 

According to some, the haiV' 

berk was so formed. 
Sho, 8. she. 
Shope, p. 287, betook me, f^aped 

my course, 
Shorte, s. shorten. 
Shrew, a bad, an til-tempered 

person. 
Shreward, a male shrew. 



ShriTe, eonjess. Item, hear eon^ 
fession, 

Shanted, shunned. 

Shurtyng, recreation, diversion^ 
pastime, p. 16. Yid. (Jaw. 
Dougl. QIoss. 

Shynand, s. shining. 

Sich, sic, B. sttcA ; rich, 8. s^h. 

Side, s. ^011^. 

Sindle, s. seldom. 

Sitteth, p. 3, sit ye, 

Skaith, scath, harm, mtst^itf. 

Skalk, p. 131, perhaps from the 
Germ. Schalck,fna/ti0tot(5,/90r- 
verse. (Sic Dan. Skalck, Ne- 
quitia, malida, &c. Shoring* 
ham de Angl. Grig. p. 318.) 
— Or perhaps from the Germ. 
Schalchen, to squint. Hence 
our northern word shMy, to 
squint. 

Skinker, one thai serves drink, 

Skomfit, discomfit. 

Skott, shot, reckoning, 

Slatred, dU, broke uUo sjUiniers. 

Sle, slea, sley, slo, slay. 

Slee, 8. day; also, sly, 

Sond, a present^ a sending. 

Sone, p. 10, soon, soon. 

Sonn, p. 291, son, sun. 

Soth, sooth, truth; also, ^rw. 

Soothly, truly. 

Sould, s. schuld (n. 18), should. 

Souling, p. 258, viclucdUng. 
Sowle is still used in the 
north for any thing eaten with 
bread. A. S. Suyrle, Sujie. 
Joh. xxi. 5 (or to sowle^ may 
be from the French word 
saouler, " to stuff and cram, to 
glui." Vide CotgraTe). 

Sowne, sound, p. 49 (rhythmi 
gratia). 

Spec, spak, spack, s. spake. 

Speere, p. 142, vide locum. 

Speered, sparred, i. e. fastened, 
shut 7, vide p. 142. 

' So in an old " Treatyse agaynst Pestilence, &c. 4to, emprynted 
by Wynkyn de Worde :" we are exhorted to " Spere (i. e, shut or 
bar) the wyndowes ayenst the south.** fol. 5. 



GLOSSARY. 



417 



, eir, B. 8p«er, mear. 

Speir, 8. (p. 65,3 sp^^i*) speare, 
askf in^tre. Vide Gloss, vol. 
iii. 

Spence, spens, eaepense. 

Spilt, 8. spoilt. 

Spindles and wborles, the instru- 
ments itsedfor spinning in Scot- 
landj intiead of spinning- 
wheels^, 

Spole, shoutder^ f. espaule; pw 
203, it seems to mean arm- 
pit. 

Sporeles, spttrless^ wUhotd spars. 

Stalwart, stalworth, stotU. 

Startopes, bu^nSy or half-booiSy 
worn bj rustics, laced down 
before. 

Stead, stede, pkuse. 

Steir, 8. stir. 

Stel, steely steilly, s. deely. 

Stound, time^ a stounde, a whUe. 

Stoup of weir, p. 109, a pillar of 
war. 

Stown, 8. stolen, 

Stra, Btrae, s. straw. 

Strike, p. 13, stricken, 

Styrt, start. 

Snore bi ys cbin, awom by his 
cMn. 

Suthe, Bwitb, «oofi, quicfdy, 

i^wa, sa, so. 

Swaird, ihe grassy sarfaoe of the 



Swarvde, swarred, cHmhed ; or, 
as it is now expressed in the 
midland counties, swarmed; 
to swarm, is to draw oneself 
up a tree, or any other thing, 
clingin(( to it with the legs 
and arms ; as hath been sug- 
gested by an ingenious cor- 
respondent. 

Swearde, swerd, sword. 



Sweare, stvearing, oath. 

Swepyls, p. 22, a swepyl is that 
port of the flail with which 
the com is beaten out, vulff, 
a supple (called in the mid- 
land counties a swindgeU; 
where the other part is termed 
the hand-Uaff), 

Swevens, dreams. 

Swyke, sigh. 

Swynkers, labourers. 

Swyppyng, p. 22, striking fast. 
lOimb. suipan, dto agere, or 
rather Axwr^tn^, from volvere, 
raptare.] Scot. Sweap, to 
scourge. Vid. Gloss, to Gaw. 
Douglas. 

Swyving, whoring, 

Sych, sttch. 

Syns, since ; syne, s. then. 

Syschemell, p. 69, Ishmael. 

Syth, since. 

Syzt, sight. 



T. 

Taiken, s. p. 113, token^ sign. 

Take, p. '28, taken. 

Targe, target^ shield. 

Te, to ; te make, p. 3, <o fiuihe. 

Te he! interjectum of laugh' 
ing. 

Tent, 8. heed, 

TevTY, diminutive of Thierry. 
Tneodoricus, Didericus. Lat 
also of Terence. 

Tha, p. 23, them ; i}\9h,(hough. 

Thare, theire, ther, there, th^. 

The, thee. 

The God, p. 27, seems con- 
tracted for The he, i. e. high 
God. 



B The Rock, SpiNDLBs,'and Whorlbs, are very much used in 
Scotland and the northern parts of Northumberland at this time. 
The thread for shoe-makers, and even some linen-webs, and all the 
twine of which the Tweed salmon-nets are made, are spun upon 
Spindlbs. They are said to make a more even and smooth thread 
than spinning-wheels. 



VOL. II. 



£ e 



418 



0L08SART. 



The, thee, tkrim. So mote I 

thee, p. 92, m nu^ I thrwe ^» 
Thii, p. 294, they. 
Thi Bone, p. 10, thy torn, 
Thilke, ^u. 
Thir, a. this, thete, 
Thir towmonde, •. these twelve 

months. 
Thirtti thousent, thirty thouf 

sand, 
Tho. ihen^y. 35, those, the. 
Thole, tholed, suffer, suffered. 
ThouBt, thou shah or shouldest. 
Thian^, g. throng, doss, 
Thrawis, t. throes. 
Thrie, t. thre, three, 
Thrif, ihfwe, 
Thruch, throuch, %.4hroi 
Thud, p. 113, nmse of a 
Tibbe. In Scotland ! 

the diminutive of IscAel, 




Tild downe, p. 292, pit(At. qL 
Till, t. to, p. 16, when. Query. 
Timkin, diminutive of Tunothy, 



Tint, 8. lost. 

To, too. 

Too-Ml\ B.iwil^ht 

Traiteiye, treason. 

TiichATdftreacherous; f. tricheur. 
Vid. p. 8. 

Tricthen, trids, deeeioe. Ibid, 

Trie, s. tre, tree. 

Trough, trouth, troth. 

Trow, thitdc, believe, trust. 

Trumped, p. 16, boasted, told 
bragging lies, lying stories. So 
in the north they say, thafs a 
trump, i. e. a lie. " She soea 
about trumping,** i.e. telling 
lies. 

Trumpes, made of a tree, p. 21, 
perhaps wooden trumpets : mu- 
sioal instruments fit enough for 
a mode tournament. 

Tuke gude keip, s. kept a dose 
^ upon her. 



Tumes a crab, se, mt the fire ; 
roastsaerab. ^ 

Twirtle twist, s. p. 106, tho- 
roughly twisted, "twiked:^ 
"twirled twist:' f. tortille. 



V. 

Tair, Somersetsh. dialect,/itr. 

Valzient, s. valiant, 

Yazen, Som. probably for^t^ 
en, i. e./aiihs; as housen, do-- 
sen, ^, 

Uch, eocA. 

Vive, p. 294, Somerset. /{«e. 

Unmufit, s. undisturbed, uncon- 
founded, perhaps unmuvit. 
rnseeled, opened; a term in 
fidconry. 

Unsonsie, s. unludiy, unfortu- 
nate, 

Vriers, p. 312, Som. /riers (it 
is Vicars, in pcc.). 

Uthers, a. t^hers. 



fo 
Uns< 



W. 

Wa, s. p. 102, way ; p. 227, wall. 

Wad, 8. would. 

Waine, waggon, . 

Wallowit, %. faded, withered. 

Wame, s. wonA. 

Wan neir, s. drew near, 

Wanrufe, s. unea^. 

War ant wys, p. 7, wary and 

unse. 
Ward, 8. watch, aentineL 
Warke, •. work. 
Warld, 8. world. 
Waryd, 8. accursed, 
Wate, 8. weete, wete, witte, 

wot, wote, wotte, know. 
Weale, weel, weil, wele, i. weU, 



* So in Chaucer, passim. Canterb. Tales, vol. i. p. 308. 

'' God let him never thb." 
1 ** Tofall of the night,** seems to be an imaee drawn from a sus- 
pended canopy, so let&ll as to cover what is below. — (Mr. Lambe.) 



GLOSSARY. 



419 



k 






Weaiifou*, wearisomey tiresome^ 

distuYbing. 
Wee, 8. liiile. 
Weet, 8. toei. 
Weid, 8. wede, weed, dolhes^ 

dothing. 
Weinde, 8. wende, went, weende, 

toeened^ thouahi. 
Weld vnge, ruunff, 
Wena, wenden, ffo. 
Wende, p. 8, wenif wendeth, 

goeth, 
Weae, weenest, tveen, weenest. 
Wer, were. 

Wereth, p. 289, defmdeth, 
Werre, weir, %, war ; warns, & 

fjoar^s. 
Wes, «XM. 
Westlin, 8. western. 
Whang, 8. a large sUce, 
Wheder, whither. 
Whelyng, wheeling. 
Whig, sour whey, or btiUemulk, 
Whorle8. See Spindles. 
Wildings, wild apples. 
Win, 8. get, gain. 
Winsome, s. agreeabley engatfing, 
Wirke wislier, work more wisUg, 
Wiss, wist, hnoWy knew. 
Withouten, wUhoid, 
Wobster, s. webster, ioeaner. 
Wode-warde, p. Aii, towards ihe 

wood. 
Woe worth, woe be to [ihee}. 
Won, toonty usage. 
Wonders, toond^sroua. 
Wood, mad.Jurums, 
WorshipfuUy frended, p. 269, 

ofworsMpftdJriends, 
Wote, wot, know ; I wote, verily. 
Wow, anexclamaiion of wonder; 

also, vow, Lond. dialect. 
Wreake, pursue renengefuHy, 
Wrench, wreAchedness, 
Wrouzt, wrought. 



Wynnen, wt«, gain, 
Wysse, p. 9, direist, govern, take 
care of, A. S. pijjian. 

Y. 

Y, /. Y singe, / sing, 

Yae, 8. each, 

Y-beare, 6carc. Y-boren,6orii«. 
So Y'founde^ found. Y-mad, 
made. Y-wonne, u)on. 

Y-core, chosen. 

Y-was, [I know] verily, 

Y-zote, molten, melted, 

Yalping, s. yelping. 

Ycha, ilka, ^xch, every. 

Ycholde, yef, lahoidd, if. 

Ychon, ecioh one, 

Yearded, p. 293, buried, 

Yede, yode, went, 

Yfere, together, 

yf.if 

Yll, iU. 

Yn, hou^, home. 
Ys, p. 11, is; p. 4, his; p. 9, in 
his. 



Z. 



Zacring bell, Som. Sacring bell, 
a lime beU ntng to give notice 
i^Ute elevation of the Hold, (It 
is Zeerirtg in pcc. p. 312.) 

Zede, yede, went. 

Zee, zeene, Som. see, seen. 

Zef, yef, if. 

Zeirs, s. yeare. 

Zeme,takecareof. A. S. ^eman. 

Zent, through. A. S. ^eonb. 

Zestrene, s. yester-e^en, 

Zit, 8. zet, yet. 

Zoud, s. you^d, you would, 

Zule, s. yule, Christmas. 

Zung, zonge, 8. young. 



END OF VOL. II. 



aXLBXBT AMD miTIMOTOK, PRIVTSB8, ST. JOHN's SQUABB, LOKDOM. 



AUG 3 1967